Goodbye, Life!

When you fully embrace this path,

Your former life, as you know it, vanishes,

As if it would with the birth of your children.

Though there are also different children

Who keep us awake at night.

The craft of writing,

Stories born from minor details and major events,

Winding like rivers, impossible to escape.

They steal autonomy, entire societies

Disappear at the hands of this menace.

Creating fresh stories while ignoring reality.

That's not the right approach.

Yet there's no other way

To get these words down on paper.

At least no one gets hurt; it's all fictional.

None of this actually happened.

Although it did, just in a distinct form,

Imagined solely by scribes,

Because others perceived it differently.

Each author crafts a unique tale,

And varied perspectives shape our view.

Ultimately, loss is a shared sorrow.

Our memories live on within us.

Photos offer a swift recollection,

But leave nothing for the future,

To remain in others' thoughts.

This is where fiction enters,

Breathing life into unexpected souls

Surprised by this creative outpouring.

Oh, life, forgive my neglect,

No one would miss me, I'm certain.

Now, everyone can see themselves

In the mirror held before them,

Reflecting their own projections, perfect plots

For those who feel a void

Yet can't quite pinpoint what's missing.