What if I told you
that the greatest writer
was a little girl
who filled
diaries with her wonderful
tales, stories, adventures.
She wove a world
as big as the sky,
lore as deep as the ocean,
she loved every second
spent with pen in hand.
When she was older,
she visited an editor.
He took one look at the
tattered diaries she brought
and burst out laughing.
Her dreams shattered,
she left in silence.
Hiding the diaries,
she screamed
until no words were left.
And so, the greatest writer
became an accountant,
hating every second
spent with pen in hand.
Day by day, month by month,
her love of writing faded
as words lost their meaning.
And so, the greatest writer
never shared her stories again.
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 4:06 PM UTC
What if I told you
that the greatest writer
was a little girl
who filled
diaries with her wonderful
tales, stories, adventures.
She wove a world
as big as the sky,
lore as deep as the ocean,
she loved every second
spent with pen in hand.
When she was older,
she visited an editor.
He took one look at the
tattered diaries she brought
and burst out laughing.
Her dreams shattered,
she left in silence.
Hiding the diaries,
she screamed
until no words were left.
And so, the greatest writer
became an accountant,
hating every second
spent with pen in hand.
Day by day, month by month,
her love of writing faded
as words lost their meaning.
And so, the greatest writer
never shared her stories again.