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“Epilogue”
Life seems to be filled with nothing,
As hopes get crushed under the weight of experience,
And dreams get less vivid with each passing night,
Until there is blackness, a void,
And any attempt to create a new life seems futile,
As we fall into the routine of apathy,
Letting ourselves be taken over by the mundane,
Turning ourselves into paper characters,
To move and dance and perform at will,
Just a sheet of paper that ignites by a spark,
No ash remaining, no memory lingering,
We become a book forgotten on the shelf,
Out of reach and undesired,
Yellowing with age until we slowly deteriorate,
And any attempt to revive us results in destruction,
And so we sit at a crossroads,
And we wait for the end to come,
Never realizing that it’s already passed us by,
The epilogue continuing the story,
The characters living on,
Not merely words on paper,
But an inspiration in the minds of a creator.
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