I have meandered a thousand incomplete thoughts
Wandered through the unfamiliar terrains of my mind
I have picked my way through the sharp shards
left from the words I have said to myself
And after all these years, meeting myself
felt like taking a breath of fresh air
After suffocating in the stagnant breath of a lifetime
There is a grand story being written here
You won’t see the pattern in it’s ebb and flow
You won’t be able to guess at its ending
but you will walk the paths you have to walk
and as all good tales go,
one day you will find yourself standing on the last page
and as you live out your last breath
you will realise,
you have been staring at the ending all along
She was the girl who survived,
the one who lived to tell the tale,
and was assumed the stronger for it.
Little did you know –
you could breathe life into a paper girl
but you could never make her real.
She would always be made of paper,
always susceptible to flames.