echoes
even if my stories are like echoes
bouncing off empty caves
with no one to read but me
even if my stories swim in dense ocean Webs
filled with stars, shinning too dimly
for someone like you to see
even if.
even if.
even if.
it no longer matters
for a tired soul like me
who loved telling tales
ever since I picked my first
hence,
may this be an ultimatum
for you and I,
unknown storytellers alike
to write, even if
to dream, even if
echoes bounce off empty spaces
or seize telling all together
and bury tired souls
in this mechanic world
we never called home
.
