You know, it’s a funny thing.
You learn, you earn your turn, you sing
And just before you burn, you bring
Yourself to fling
The tragic thing you fold away
So magic can take hold

And all the paper scraps you follow
Scripted with your drifted sorrow
Come out from their holding hollow:
One last read, and then tomorrow
A day starts uprooted, lifted
Nothing borrowed ~

A life unscripted