As the metaphor goes,
people are like books.

Each hold a story with
pages beyond pages of
selective words and
twisting ink.

Within those stories are
tales ten times as much.
Tales that have changed the ending
for the better or worse.

Though it may be selfish and intruding,
I wish to read them all.

The exuberance,
the fall,
the bittersweet,
human lives are much more
interesting and dramatic than
meets the eye.

I deduce from faces of old and young
who both face must face same fate.

I read generations of dreams
in the tiny pupil of an eye.

Millions and trillions
of stories,
yet so little untold.
So little of the ones that would
impact the world with such great force.

Would it be so idealistic
to wish to tell them all?

If given the chance, may I perhaps,
peek into your significant story?

May I perhaps
share it with the world?

It's up to the writer to decide
to have their stories
let out to society's eye
or
buried in the silent voices,
forever lost and untold.

Here I will wait,
writing and scrawling
tales like yours.