My Story Isn't Over

Everything I ever wrote

Sounded like a joke

And suddenly

I was unsure

My hand trembled

And some weird scribbles

Appeared on the page

I frowned as I looked at them

Trying to figure out

What the hell they meant

It looked like chaos

It was dark

And somehow welcoming

Bittersweet escape

I went with it

I laid down my pen

Stupid pen

It made useless words anyway

Nothing worth reading

Or remembering

Or cherishing

On second thought I went back

Made a clearly defined dot

On the page

At the end of all

My stupid ramblings

Pushed so hard

I nearly tore the fragile paper

A hard stop

An end

I surveyed all I had written

It was dumb

I was a horrible writer

No one would ever

Want to read it

Half the time it didn't even make

The slightest bit of sense

I contemplated that scribble

That mindless

Chaotic

Void of an embrace

And suddenly

It was all there was

I wanted to fall into it

I wanted to be it

So I leapt

Into its darkness

Into its bitterly sweet

Welcoming

Embracing me

As no one else had

I swam there for a long time

In a dark river

But it was cold

And I was freezing

I began to long again

For the warmth

That only my pen had brought

So I clawed my way out

Tearing at the walls of the void

Until the ink of my scribble

Poured like black blood

From the wound of a demon

Scarred and bruised

And beaten and battered

I emerged

Breathlessly

My numbed hands fumbled

Searching for my pen

And beneath that hard pressed dot

Meant to signify an end

I placed the smallest tick

Turning the finality of that period

Into a semicolon

Where the writing could have

Stopped

Forever

But didn't

After the semicolon I wrote

My story isn't over

I am the author