What will I do?
My story’s only half done
The final pages have no writing on them
The perfect boy, the loving friends,
The happily ever after.
There is so much potential in these last pages
To cram in a climax, and shove in a conclusion
Like trying to close the last overstuffed box
I could accomplish anything in those last pages
These pages stay a blank slate
Like a room of white walls
Closing in around me while I try to stay sane
I scream for help
nothing fills the air –
backs are turned – ignoring me like they’ve done for years
How can I fill in those final pages
When they’re being ripped from my grasp
But there is nothing I can do
my mind stays empty of ideas
my mind, which is usually so full of color and
so many ways to push myself to the next level
hits a wall. BANG!
How can this be the end?
So many memories swish around my brain
I picture my entire childhood
Growing up on the playground as a fairy
The lonely whispers of adolescence
My most recent years stress ridden with hopes of success
but the book that is my life WHY DOES IT END HERE!
It’s almost done
No one responds
“be tough” squeaks from a corner
I can’t – not anymore,
not when these pages remain blank
these pages that hold happiness, success, my identity
that could hold twelve years of me
As I slip
into a whisper in the minds of the people I care most about,