All my life I’ve been staring at this wall
And reading the writing, a story for the ages
Full of heartache and loss
With a villainous hero
Who plays the mentor and the fool.

I’ve read about a battle for change
With victory a concept
True only in lies
That left him broken and falling,
Devastated by the loss
Of who might have been.

And no story is true
Without a love that no one wants
And a demon that no one hates.
And where’s the fun
If the hero has friends
When he needs them most?

These words etched into stone
Tell of a possession
That started as a deal
And ended without a soul.
And of a prison that none can see
But through the words of a book in green.

There is a character who is not a monster
And another who doesn’t know her.
One who speaks but they don’t hear
And one that has his books and wisdom.
There is one who is trapped in a jar
And who wants a tattoo on his sleeve.

At the end is an ellipsis
That moves farther down with each passing day.
The longer I stay
The more this fiction is written on this wall.