Living your life and reading your write about your life. Is not the same

must say"
Reading a story that one relates too can be a bit emotional.
In my life there's no tales
Of Hunch back whales..
Or roguet country back hill trails.
My chapters are captured in casualties.
The meaning i unfold are of moments 
I prefer were never told.
My romance always dies In finance.
My devotion seem to be revoking to the heart I'm least provoking.
My mysteries loose integrity
 For lack of been interesting.
The drama i foretell is built
Of the karma that has no stamina.
I hold a book in my hands and In my mind
The meaning hangs. 
Literally in my hands.
I was hoping to touch someone with these reading. 
But i ended up hooking myself to story
That's quite similar to my lifes shredding.
and that's boring for a story or life,
That guarantees tears and disappointment. 
But my pain and fears are overwhelming
And readers enjoy the miserable life of others and that's ok because i wrote it.
So excuse me if my daydreaming 
Begins the flow and leak bleeding.
Im in wonder,
  hazing thunder"
so my sad grips my strings. 
and my posture holds control. 
Thank you all who join.
See you tomorrow ....