There are stories to tell...
Some good and some
not so
good
They remind me of wooden stars
hanging
on a dusty old ceiling
Ignored but never forgotten
They were dull like
dreams in the morning
and yet they
scream
much like a nightmare
These stories... they whisper
sometimes to haunt
and sometimes to
justify their
existence
But as with all stories
written or told
the end leads to
another...