Shiris The Unknown
The books on my life...hold many tales. Touch them, as you search for the first to pull off the shelf. Why not start from the beginning? Where hell first broke loose with my birth. Why not start there, where my mother knew more of my fate, then I would. She knew...in the end...That true darkness would swallow me, and never let me go. But as far as my books read, it has already happened. So why do I go on? Why do I keep going...? The further I go, I notice, the beginning catching up with the end. As the fingers brush along the book's spine, it turns to dust. What does it tell you then? That it is not real? Is everything I see...everything that has happened...merely a dream? That these books I see upon this shelf, mean nothing. Why...why do I think this? Is it truly because, I have no reason here...I was set here, to be..nothing...just another..wondering soul, who's stories hold no meaning. Just another book with withered pages, unable to be read. Soon to turn to dust and rejoin the earth. Another apologue gone untouched. Or so you think. Some lines erased, rewritten, to fit the soul of the story. To maybe...worsen it..help it...one may never know, till they live it. I know...it's my story..my life...and I see no better in it. Do you? It can not be changed no more...touch the pages and they fade...touch my life...and it vanishes. Touch me not! I will go no where...no matter how I try...I am stuck here...to live eternity...but someday...like the pages of the books...I too, will fade into the darkness...never to be seen...to be read...to know...
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