Looking into the distance
of a long, lost existence
A silhouette that once danced to be free
She's so far away from me now
I can hardly
see

Pretty little wind-up doll
wound up in the wrong hands

Was going through the motions
for too long

Years of tinkering
with her gears

she springs out of control

Repairs include
conserving energy and
resting her joints to
revitalize connectivity

She will no longer
be entertaining in your
playpen

You broke her

The book of life,
we all write ours.
Some gently and some with a rush,
familiar is melancholy and joyous flowers.

Your book of life,
no one realizes its truth.
They will get addled and wonder,
until they read in between the lines.

Beautiful sadness will pour,
Don't let it ruin your book.
Shelter it with unbiased happiness,
and smile for not to be drenched.

I have yet to finish it,
Everyone does someday.
But till that day,
write, write and remember,
your precious book of life.