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Storywriter, story reader, blurred lines.
Storyweaver, tapestrys of colors and shapes in letters
That you knit with your pen
Bits and pieces of memories and personalities
Shards of your dreams and hopes
Take them and pile them up, one by one
A love story for the love you never had
A tradgedy for the loss you always felt
A comedy for the days you spent laughing alone
A fantasy for the life you can't live
The character who always smiles
The character who always dreams
The character who wishes "someone, please call me beautiful"
Is she not made up of the secret parts of you
That you want no one to see?
You collect so many stories inside of you
Whats left of yourself?
The lines are blurring
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