Posted in Epics, Poetry

On paper and life

I.
Like a fresh page of a notebook,
you begin writing your story,
you have the option of ink and graphite,
and likewise that of a whitener or an eraser,
but you could always tear the page off!

II.
By the time you reach the middle,
you’re equally trained and drained,
while the binding- the two staple pins,
now lay bare in front of you,
as you’ve exhausted your free trials from page one.
III.
You’re already familiar with the last page,
as it’s the sole witness to your aspirations
like random doodles and scraps of poetry,
and even those endless scribbles,
that were drawn to taste the future.

I.
A few pages come stuck,
some arrive as a misfit,
and many bear missing margins,
but they all become a hurdle,
only and only if you let it.

II.
It’s totally up to you-
to either take down notes
just for your existence,
 make paper planes and paper boats,
or maybe balance out the two.

III.
The ink is fading and so are the memories,
the lessons, however, will remain in your archives,
for you now know you mustn’t give in
to paper cuts and loose leaves, and most of all-
that life is but an eulogy for death.

~Poem 29
Book of Life
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: We heart it)

Author:

Your average girl.

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