Reading the last line
Carefully written-italic
I am closing this book
Of a never told fairy tale.

He fought he conquered
For his kingdom which was never his
He lost and won his crown
The prince of forgotten thoughts.

I am a writer and creator
All I could do is to rewrite him
All I could write again for him
Is few more lies.

His lips has cracks
His eyes redden without sleeps
His body wounded
He kissed the princess.

I reached for another book
With a glittering cover
With empty pages
Without a written story.

He kissed her again
Cried again and begged
Wake up for me once
From this sleep my princess.

I start writing on the empty pages
With a brush soaked in blood
I am writing another story
A story of never lost kingdoms.

He lifts his eyes, staring writer
He reaches for sword, broken into pieces
Nothing to threaten with, he kneels
He begs, finish my story first.

Busy with meaningless words
I am writing about another prince
I am singing about his charm with words
Boasting about his princess beautiful.

Pierce my heart with your pen
Take me to a never-ending sleep
Creator of me! Do this favor for me
He crawls towards the writer.

I am a creator-I shouted
I am suffering-he begged
Hesitating I wrote-and he died
I continued writing-
About the never lost kingdoms…

(I read this as the never ending fight of a person to start living once again, starting everything afresh, or this is a fight of mine...the prince in me, the creator within me)