Life is like a book,
with the beginning said and done,
the middle still left to define,
the end still clear to run.
Each day inside it I get lost,
waiting for the page to turn.
Every chapter like fire in my hands,
but it's in my heart I feel the burn.
The plot is filled with joy and tears,
laughter and sleepless nights.
Characters find friendship and love,
conflict turns it to fights.
As the story line goes on,
a hero emerges from the dark.
A young girl too, is thrown in the mix
love for him lit by a spark.
But life is not a fairytale,
happily ever after is fantasy.
The characters do not end up
where you'd think they'd be.
An evil queen enters the fray,
the hero stands beside her throne.
The young girl looks on, unoberserved
broken-hearted and alone.
The cover is closed that's where it ends,
the reader does not know what to say.
What happened to 'true love conquers all'?
How can a story end that way?
Life is no book I've ever seen,
no novel you'll ever find.
For stories take you to made-up lands,
not the truth in the author's mind.