Soon the told stories will be jokes among others,
while the one that is kept soundlessly will be the story of only two,
not heard,
but remembered.

My heart is the book,
My conscience is the author,
My childhood is the prologue,
My growing phase is the pages with the most lessons,
My ideas are the metaphoric words,
My successes are the exciting paragraphs,
My challenges are the hair-rising lines,
My teenage life of naiveness is all the questions of the story,
And my adulthood answers it all, maybe some.
The last chapter defines what is right and wrong in my life,
The time before my passing is the page that holds you from continuing -to finish, to accept that it wont last.

And it ends,
And you flip the last blank page,

Thereafter, only God knows what happens to the story, to me.