Of heavy hearts and surplus ink

This life is your own.

This story is yours.

You only have one chance to tell it.

How would you like it to go?

One chance to tell it,

Not one line of a story.

Mountains and gorges and winding roads,

Weaving in and out of your tale.

I am wary.

Wary of shadows.

Shadows of self-doubt,


Shadows of who I’m to be.

Oh, the burden.

This story is yours.

Set yourself free.