It has already been written.

Looking down but can’t find the ground

Wanting desperately to belong some place

Floating aimlessly in empty space


Wonder where you are but can’t see very far

 

Wanting something solid underneath your feet

Walking down an unknown street

Wonder why and all you can do is cry


But that’s what happens when you finish the last page 

The realization that it was never your story to write

You feel alone in this cage

But there is a light

 

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