Words dance across pages. Countless stories are told. The author always amazes And the stories never grow old. She writes tales of friends and foes. Some prevail some die. And as the dead fade into the shadows Our hearts let out a cry. She controls life and death. In her palm, their fate she holds. As her readers hold their breath Waiting for the story to unfold. Romance and revenge are here to entice. Both have reputations to uphold. One a fool’s paradise The other a dish best served cold. Conflict and resolution are necessary. This much she knows. As only they can spice up the story And bring the book to a close. How she wishes she could write her story So, she could see the twists and turns. Fill it up with romance and glory And watch the bad things burn. As she takes a break from writing about pain and fury She lets out a groan. Because she controls this story But wishes she could be the author of her own.
-Miette Dsouza
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