The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.

I’ve set my feet on this course, chosen this path
I go through life as if writing a first draft.
The problem with that is that I can’t change the past.
What’s written is written and I write it too fast.

I flip through the pages and read what is there
I see the mistakes now, in singles, in pairs.
It’s pointless really, I can’t ever go back
and moreover, it hurts to see the wisdom I lacked.

My confidence wanes and the thoughts whirl in my head
The doubts become nightmares as I lay in my bed.
Too many “what ifs” dance across my mind
and I see possible futures of all kinds.

They tell me not to worry, that it will be okay,
that I will look back and be happy someday.
They tell me that I have the future in my hands
that I can write anything and make all these plans.

What they say makes sense and I suppose they’re right
if I can see everything clear as black and white.
The difference comes because they don’t understand
and they don’t know the path that I’ve planned.

What do you write when the ending doesn’t fit?
Where do you go when there’s too many plot twists?
What happens when the plans break and the quest goes awry
and the sidekicks fall away and the love interest dies?

What do you write when the character stops talking?
What happens when the path ends and you’re still walking?
No people, no setting, and the plot still rages
But what do you do when the book runs out of pages?

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