A Story (a poem)

I couldn’t tell it all in a note,
so I wrote it in a book.
Why would I say goodbye,
when my story’s unfinished?
Invading my thoughts.
Not as something to commit,
but as something to study.
You can’t ask them why they did it.
Only those who attempt or ideate give reasons.
That isn’t proof at all.
No conclusions can be drawn.
We are the only ones who can tell our own stories.
Can a single page really say enough?

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