Unwritten

 Author's Note: This piece has sort of two parts. The first is a poem, and the second is reflecting on my poem... I just couldn't separate them, though, but I hope you enjoy!

Climbing up the limbs of the tree,

Sitting on top of the world beneath me.

Bringing a journal to take notes on my life,

And yet it lays unwritten.

I swing upside-down and glance at a twirl,

To discover a new and whole different world.

Could this possibly be what to explain?
I'd rather be left unwritten.

Leaping through the leaves seeming effortlessly,

Although there are so many flaws in me.

Throwing my journal to the ground,

Forever choosing to lay unwritten.

 If you are writing my story,

Isn't my past holding me back?

From who I can be?

From my future?

Because,

Isn't the future made to be left open?

For you?

For me?
Our pasts' are resisting us and pulling us.

Away from possibilities.

Away from life.

Which is why I am left,

Unwritten.