WRITE YOUR OWN STORY

WRITE YOUR OWN STORY

They handed me a book one day,
And told me what to think and say,
The pages all were neatly planned,
The ending written by their hand.

They said, “Now walk the road we chose,
Wear proper shoes and tidy clothes,
Don’t climb too high, don’t dream too far,
And never question who you are.”

I tried to read their boring tale,
Where every storm was small and pale,
Where dragons slept and witches cleaned,
And no one said just what they dreamed.

So I found a pen beneath my bed,
It wrote in blue, then green, then red,
It drew a road across the floor,
That climbed straight through my bedroom door.

I wrote myself a silver moon,
A dancing clock, a singing spoon,
A forest where the old trees knew,
The secret things I’d travelled through.

I wrote the pain they told me hide,
The nights I broke and nearly died,
Then gave myself a stronger part,
And built a castle round my heart.

No one else can write your page,
Or lock your dreams inside a cage,
They may correct each word you say,
But they cannot take your pen away.

So write your own strange story true,
There’s only one who writes like you,
And if they do not like your end—
Turn one more page and start again.