Pages

Notes upon notes flood the pages,

at my fingertips, words form, but at what cost?

I waste away at my own worth,

the only thing fueling the fire within me -- fear.

Fear to lose my sense of self.

Fear to lose the one thing I can rely on.

I can only project my thoughts into words

if they are in someone else's chapter.

I am not my own person.

I am but pulling the strings to a story I may never even finish.