The poem
I've swallowed disappointments
thick enough to make me choke,
Watched a promised happy ending
turn into a fucking joke.
But one rotten little chapter
doesn't get the final say,
It can fuck up several pages
- it can't steal the whole damn play.
There's more inside my story
than the shit that came before,
And anything expecting me to end
can watch me write some more.
Every loss can take a paragraph
- it doesn't own the line.
I decide when this shit finishes,
and the ending will be mine.
And if life wants another twist,
I'll meet the bastard then,
Because this is still my fucking story
- and I'm holding the pen.
The design
Comfort Colors® 1717, with the Editorial design printed on the front.