Turning the pages of my life, chapter by chapter.

Starting from the beginning, fearing what comes thereafter.

The words hit the soul like rocks, hurled through clenched teeth.

Each page its own story, the message lies beneath.

Suddenly, I come upon the most frightening of all,

The unwritten pages of my life’s progressing scrawl.

The haunting paper screams its blankness, its blinding bare white.

Assuring me the next chapter won’t bring so much delight.

No words to predict my future, perhaps there’s none to show.

Maybe it’s just not finished, I suppose I may never know.

Maybe my life begins with joy and endless childish fun,

And progresses with more tragedy, ending at page ninety-one.

The one way to find out, is to forget the knowing text.

To actually live my life, not knowing what comes next.

It’s frightening, but I must realize the path I took.

If only life could be read like an open book.