Finally someone stumble upon me,
Took interest on the script I written,
A story of blood and gore,
She saw the torn of pieces rather then the script I forge,
Saw I was needed and abandon,
Rather then a kid whose violent,
People read but never stick around,
I was afraid she'd leave me unfound,
She was cut by my words and sharp edges,
She stayed and was patience.
Felt heard and wanted,
She gave me what I needed,
Saw the potential that was thrown,
Teach me to rebuild my own.
A better script,
hopefully a peaceful one,
With dream and list of what I wanted to done,
Mark one, I've finally been heard,
I finally see it was possible,
Help the flame inside to subside,
It was burning this piece of paper,
Slowly turning it to vapor.
She pat the fire down, gently with her hand and arm.
She's the drop of rain that dwindle the flame.
She stay like a glue on paper,
She sticks around, unlike other
Now I have someone to support me,
Now my limit is infinity,
I have a glue that help me stick on new story,
So I can improve and add upon myself.
I don't need tape, I don't need tack it,
I don't need paper fastener,
no clip and no stapler,
I have my glue,
it might not be perfect,
But at the end of the day,
We always stick together.
So again, Who am I?
I am but a script.
I'll slowly build upon my story,
so that one day people will notice me,
But this time more peacefully,
this time, properly.
To be seen as the piece of art that I am,
To inspire others,
To listen to the story I told and written.
To my words and lecture,
To the metaphors I put together,
I'll add into the world of entertainment,
That's who I am.
YOU ARE READING
Escapism From The City Of Gray
Short Story"I live in a city, while everyone live in a lowly village, a suburban residence , a shack in the forest, I live in a city, where everything is near and convenient, I live in a city, where the intelligence gets made, where opportunities are found...
