I'm like an old diary.
Filled with history,
Remaining a mystery,
Far from misery,
Living as trickery.
To an extent where,
It's only me I see.
I'm not the author of my own destiny,
A word that ceases to exist in this irony,
But perhaps this could be victory?
A wonderland of fantasy,
Characters as stars I see,
Twinkling in the night sky I dream,
Sprinkling hope upon an unknown world,
Or rather,
A nameless story.
Apr 3
Apr 3, 2026 at 9:59 PM UTC
I'm like an old diary.
Filled with history,
Remaining a mystery,
Far from misery,
Living as trickery.
To an extent where,
It's only me I see.
I'm not the author of my own destiny,
A word that ceases to exist in this irony,
But perhaps this could be victory?
A wonderland of fantasy,
Characters as stars I see,
Twinkling in the night sky I dream,
Sprinkling hope upon an unknown world,
Or rather,
A nameless story.