Her Stories

She is a book and 

Ink travel through her veins.

Stories end without an end

Because not everyone deserves to be penned.

She describes them in metaphors,

Collect them in commas.

Some form chapters while others

Are just in words.

She left some incomplete with her

Finest writing she titled them,

"The ones I let go"

Thousands of inky footprints laid 

Little did she knew only some stayed.

If you wonder why to write about 

People she ones knew 

But she hopes that one day,

Someone writes about her too.