We say or think or feel we own stories
but what's the truth? Do we really possess them?
We feel we are the creators of these words,
Are we really the one who formed the meaning?
We feel ours are the best words ever written,
Do we ever know that the same feeling has been felt a hundred thousand times before?
We are so insecure about our feelings,
do we realize that so many just passed away feeling them?
We are just a speck of dust in this universe,
and everything we have or we create is something we borrowed for a while...