If your life was written by an author
Would it have more to offer?
The boring parts skipped
Perhaps told in a dramatic script?
How would your childhood read?
I bet he would skip over the things you need
To remind you of who you are,
And how you’ve come so far.
Would his pages be better than your memories?
I bet you are good at telling your own stories.
Who was your first love and when were you married?
When did you let go of the past and the things you carried?
You don’t need help from his pen.
He wouldn’t even know where to begin
In capturing all that makes you unique.
I’m dying to here you speak.
Every author works on a deadline
And a place to put his byline
But your life is still to be found
Unfinished, unedited and unbound.