Flipping through the pages,
there was something missing,
each chapter had a title,
a happy ending but not a beginning.

Stories told in fragments,
a puzzle incomplete,
the narrative's full bloom,
yet the roots remain unseen.

Each line, a fleeting glimpse,
of what was left behind,
a prologue lost in shadows,
where the truth is hard to find.

Characters that flourish,
yet their starts are left untold,
an epic without dawn,
a tale that’s half unrolled.

In the book of our lives,
sometimes pages turn with haste,
a happy end is promised,
but the start is laid to waste.

Yet in this unwritten space,
where beginnings find their way,
we carve our own new stories,
where each dawn can light the day.

So I’ll write my own prologue,
fill in the gaps, unseen,
create a new beginning,
in the spaces in between.

© Azz_lia