Life is always written for everyone.
And my life isn’t any different, as you may know
With its ups and downs, coming and maybe to go
Back to its state of turmoil.
People have acted as if life is a box waiting to be opened.
It’s true as we see the darkness of me,
With force to keep it low-key.
But it slowly grabs me away.
As I whisper my thoughts and feelings to the wise atmosphere,
Thinking that it may not reply,
Because the atmosphere may not abye
With the way, I am writing my autobiography.
As the pouring rain drips upon my face,
I feel as if my feelings are pure and distant in the past.
If I were a gazelle running fast,
To forget my memories of hurt and anger.
When a tear falls across my face, I scream and wonder why I go through this,
My life arriving at a point of destruction, BOOM!
With my life going through a point of doom,
And I say to myself, “This is my written autobiography.”
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Submission Name: The Autobiography of Jane Doe.
