The End?
It isn't going to end like this
He had lost control of his story
It didn't happen overnight
He wasn't exactly sure when it happened
Just that the writing was not his anymore
Someone else
Crossing his T's
Dotting his I's
Leaving run-on sentences
Too many 'But's
And 'If's
He used to write hard
Pressing his moments deep into the lines
Exploding with every stroke
A frantic pace to be sure
But it was his
He saw himself in everything
His world swirled from the point of his pen
If he didn't like where he was
He simply
Wrote it in
But that was then
Somewhere back there he got tired
Closed his eyes for a moment
Rest
After all
His punctuation had gotten sloppy
He was losing too many plot lines
Even his rhymes were getting
Tired, and fired
More slowly
Too much time spent in edits
'Should have' replacing 'Did'
But now it isn't him
He doesn't recognize any of this
He knows he wouldn't have it this way
Someone else's hand was at work
And they were dull
Dreadfully dull
His character was lost
In a coma of TV and 'No's
Every episode more dry and lifeless than the last
Every gesture tired
Every meeting too late
Every parting too soon
Not him anymore
He knows now
Not how, when, or where
But now at least he knows
He's taking it back
It's his
He's going to spray himself
Like graffiti on moving buses
Sending himself every day into the unknown
Pushing the edge of the moment
Drawing outside the lines
And between
So that when the credits roll
He'll see his name
It isn't going to end like this
Sea of Shattered Glass As We Pass