My soul is tired ,
My bones are weary.
My heart is broken,
My feet feel heavy.

I'm scared.
I want to jump head first.
But would you jump,
If you knew it would hurt
When you hit the ground?

When I'm with you ,
It feels like I'm flying
In the clouds.

But soon blue skies turn dark,
My eyes close
And I'm spirally towards the ground.

I want this , us , so much,
But how can I start something
That I know will end badly?

I believe we all have writers
Who sit around long tables
And write our stories
They carefully pick the characters,
Whose paths cross with ours.
And decide the universes.

They create days of joy
Where nothing could be better
And dark stormy days
Where every breath
Takes extra effort.

I feel like my writers
Have a taste for chaos
I feel like they
Clink their glasses
And toast to my battles
They create adventures
Not for me
But for my readers
So they could chuckle
And burst out laughing

They balance out good and bad,
And I'm thankful
Things could have been worse,
So I'm grateful
If anything, I know,
I've lived an interesting life.