for some reason I feel as damaged

as a novel in a puddle

filled with stories

but abandoned and unwanted

I don't know how I ended up

there

But I think im awaiting to be

picked up out of this feeling

I feel old as if everyone

has read my pages,

as if I am the same ole tale

being told over and over again

Even I'm tired of my own story

the very same causes keep

leading to my effects

when will I stop feeling like I've

been ripped of some of my pages

filled with my self-confidence

and assurance

but my exterior has always been strong

my cover has sometimes been covered with lies

I know all chapters front and back

but i still feel blank.

is it too late to change my fate?

I sometimes imagine what I'm predestined to be

what a waste because 

I kept forgetting I am the reader

and the writer

the main character,

main idea, and supporting details

I am the infinite story that goes

on and on 

even if I lose physical placement

to record my memories 

even when the ink runs out

I'll still run through people's minds