Storyteller

The cabinet in my living room creaks open at night.

Pages burns and twists turn,

And heroes give up their light.

Seven ounces of rage bleed through my red nailbeds.

Pennies drop on the floor,

And my agony is fated.

I am a drop in the ocean, I am the dust between sand.

My head dreams of castles

And starcrossed lands.

But the candle on the table drips stories yet untold.

I cannot put them down,

Do not give me your gold.

-Jackie