I write stories on my sleeve
Silent novels carved into my arm
Quick
Sometimes d r a g g e d out
All melancholy with the hope for happiness.
The different variety of length is on me.

I am a library,
My words are written for the public to see,
Shelves upon shelves,
displaying biographies of my tragedies.
But my stories result in cliffhangers
when I roll down my sleeve.