Story

My story, Strung in chapters All jumbled, almost unwanted. Much forgotten, smudged on papers faded. You pen the plot, I play the role. You begin and you end, like long ago. Living through each chapter, Only thinking it will get better. You said there was a last chapter, I didn't care to wait. And I am sorry, each time I have overstayed. Arrived but slightly late.

So.

My heart has grown very cold. I am your best Eskimo friend.