Poem: My Own Story

[Analyse Armstrong 1]

Hello, I’m new here, but I learned about this website through the contest that’s currently going on, and I was wondering what people may think about my submission!

This is a poem called “My Own Story:”

“I’ve never wanted to be a part of my own story anyway.
Every chapter of the world flips by,
but I sit and stare at other’s,
wishing theirs was mine.
A page gets turned,
and my stomach churns,
as the longing for something more
burns through the field of thorns
that holds the home
where every concern that enters my head
will one day be formed.
The fear that one day, this longing will combust,
and my story will burn down, into ashes and dust,
in the shadow of what it once was.

I want to finish my book,
I want to change those of others,
I want to discover my own plot line,
plot twists.
Write and read it,
from cover to cover,
as the letters pile up as seconds.
Minutes as brief as the words
within the sentences of hours,
paragraphs of days fill the pages,
the weeks.
Every chapter as long as the time in between
each birthday candle.
Being blown out at the scene of a party.
The celebration of the end of one chapter,
and the start of a new.
Except after some time,
it seems less like celebrating the new,
but simply getting through.

Through 31 million, 5 hundred 36 thousand letters.
The more letters you collect,
the better,
doesn’t matter,
that my eyes are strained,
and my head now aches
from staring at the pages
in the dim glow of the bedside lamp
for far too long.
Even when the plot of the story gets boring
and I'm forced to flip through,
the memories,
of the chapters I once knew.

8 thousand 7 hundred 60 sentences.
Eventually,
as time goes on,
I start to wish that I could move on,
be gone from the chapters of before,
from the story of my past that I can’t quite ignore.
Like the slow start of a novel
that you hope will improve
as the story continues,
but after a chapter, or two,
you begin to loose that hope.
So, all I CAN do is suffer through.
I sit and wish that someone else’s story
was the one I was able to choose.
I close my book and put it away.
Because I’ve never wanted to be a part of my own story anyway.”

[Aleisha White]

Analyse Armstrong, this is pretty captivating thought.. Beautiful metaphors.. Could this chapter be but a poem?

I've just finished the book 'Illusions' by Richard Bach.. After reading your poem, I wonder whether perhaps you'd better find yourself a part of that story..

"A cloud does not know
why it moves in such a direction
and at such speed,
It feels an impulsion.. this is
the place to go now. But the sky knows
the reasons and the patterns
behind all clouds,
and you will know, too, when
you lift yourself high enough
to see beyond
horizons."

[hayisa]

Very beautiful poem. The rhymes don't feel forced and also, I love the way you narrate things!