For I am nothing more than you were,

A stone in time’s undying path,

A mere cry in a forest of timber,

A single droplet in the storms rage.

Indifference is a burden I never wished to carry.

In my youth, I sought extravagance,

To be that beckoning voice in chaos,

The star held closest to the sun.

But as I’ve aged, reshaped and rethought,

My only wish is to be nothing like you.

A mere paint stroke on a canvas,

A leaf lost in winters stillness.

I do not wish to fade,

A whisper in the pit of ash and smoke,

Bound by blood and fate to a cycle which consumed you.

I crave freedom- to breathe the air as I once did,

To fill my lungs with air untouched,

Untainted by the poison that suffocated you.

So, as you never did, ill pick up my pen and set my ink,

Bleeding my thoughts to words,

Carving my existence by my very hand.

Let my life transform into tales,

Blossoming where pain once lay-

Sewing my truths within each page,

My heart and soul etched in every line.

My words, my stories, my dreams,

Growing into something more,

Merely ink on a page,

In the vast, unwritten book of life.