POEM: DEATH OF AN ASPIRING FILMMAKER

 In the quiet of her room, dreams took flight,

A young filmmaker spun tales in the night.

With passion aflame and a heart full of light,

She painted the world in black and white.


Each day she crafted scenes with care,

Directing life with a visionary’s stare.

Angles shifted, stories refined,

A cinematic universe uniquely designed.


In shadows and light, her stories unfurled,

Visions of grandeur, a new, vivid world.

A lens in her hand, an artist’s pure gaze,

Transforming the mundane into a dazzling blaze.


But fate’s cruel hand came, dark and swift,

Snatching away her dreams, her precious gift.

A life full of promise, cut far too short,

A storyteller silenced; dreams left to thwart.


She'd wake each morning, with a script in mind,

A new narrative, fresh scenes to find.

Adjusting the angle, perfecting the shot,

Every frame a masterpiece, each line a thought.


Yet now her room lies silent, cold,

No more stories left to be told.

The camera rests, its film unspent,

A poignant symbol of dreams that went.


In our hearts, her visions remain,

A legacy of hope amidst the pain.

For though she's gone, her dreams still soar,

A filmmaker's spirit, forevermore.


Dreamed of Hollywood, but ended up with a plotline only the Grim Reaper could direct. Talk about the worst casting decision ever honestly. 

Spent every day perfecting her craft, only for life to yell "cut" before the premiere. Her life was a film in the making, but it seems the director up there had a different ending in mind. Maybe next time, they'll let her finish the script before cutting to black. Hahahaha




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