If this world is a library, my life is a book,
kept in a dusty corner where no one will ever look.
And since I have nothing better to do,
I turn back the pages to see what all I've done.
Some of the pages were really fun,
but in most of them, I was always on the run.
There were some pages that I can never forget,
these were mostly the pages of regret.
I tried but couldn't erase the things that went wrong.
I couldn't tear apart those pages, the glue was too strong.
Now, there's no use cribbing over the past —
I should instead focus on my present, as the pages are flipping fast.
But this time, I won't rush.
I will relish every word I write with my brush.
And I know I'll still make mistakes —
just this time, they'll be new.
I'll still have regrets, but I hope they'll only be few.
There are millions of books in this library,
so I don't expect mine to be in glory.
Nothing really matters as long as I enjoy my story.
And how many pages are left in my book?
I have no clue.
For now, my current page is empty —
so my story shall continue...