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Such is the Life of an Author

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The people who live within my head,
Hear through my ears,
And repeat what's been said.

They blabber incessantly,
Create names for themselves.
Speak in voices from my past,
Each a unique personality.

Their thoughts are my thoughts,
Each voice is my own.
Each character dreams personified,
Each laugh rises from a grim tome.

They live as long as I do,
These creatures behind mine eyes.
And though their pettiness makes me foolish,
Their observations make me wise.

Therein a love lies bleeding,
Several heartstrings snapped in two.
Each love a suppressed longing,
For you (and you and you).

Within my dreams at nighttime,
Their stories weave into mine.
And comprehension dawns with day-time:
I know I've written every line





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