From the Archives (1)
I can’t write it anymore
The painful story that is my life
Everyone else apart from i, the writer saw hope for the character
They could’ve been right
The story could’ve turned out well
But the strength to turn the pages has left
The strength to survive the story has left
You say "aren’t you the writer, why not just write your sorrows away".
But here i am, the writer also doubling as the character, i have limitations.
So as i end the story now. Engrave these words on my tombstone
Here he lies,
a story cut short.
hope? he had none
Joy? he lost all.
All ye who knew him shall think of the story that could’ve been.
But here he lies showing you the pitiful story that was.