Page by page,
people run their eyes through my life,
some jog, whilst others sprint
and those hard of sight may hold a squint
here and there.

Page by page,
I typed my life out before me,
questioning every memory, inspecting every story,
playing out the words that tell me as I am,
like a pianist churning out lines lustfully
into the darkest hours.

Page by page,
I'm aging and the story is changing,
I start to wonder whether the book is me
or I am the book. This book is where I began
and where I go from here
is a story I'm yet to write.