Every painting is a mystery,
Every person is a story,
Stars are our dreams,
Our desires gone free,
And then there is you and me,
I figured out your story,
I am still trying to figure out me,
What do I believe?
Who am I?
What do my tears mean?
Are my accomplishments all lies?
Others are impressed when they read my writing,
I don’t see what is so special about it,
It is just my life story in a poetic were of me,
That’s all it is,
My story,
Impressive?
Nah,
A windy road of adventure?
Maybe,
let the story take control,
Leaving me in the dust of my own novel.