I feel lost in a book,
Betwixt love and pain,
The empty pages synchronizes with my
Broken hopes and dreams.
My legs are trapped in the lines,
Which held truth in knives.
I am cold and numb,
As the untitled poems and chapters.
I try floating in the unfinished apostrophes,
With the hope of harping my epilogue.
I begin to cope with the turning pages,
Align with the rhythm of stolen words,
Juggling to fit in the plots of
Nameless Characters.
My insecurity crown makes me a,
Side character,
In the chapters of the protagonist, I love.
My misunderstood metaphors,
Antagonizes me in my own plot twists.
I am trapped in the oozing sunrises and sunsets,
Weeping to touch the untouched pages of future.
I am shipwrecked and suppressed,
In a forbidden universe.
With the moon singing its last lullaby,
I turn skeletal.
Yet, I am still lost in a book,
Hoping to become someone's.

.    .    .