The Icognito Writer

Night Of The Fireflies

Little lights floating in the sky

Glowing as bright as a candle light

Its the night of the fireflies

Its the night of the fireflies
Making their ways with their little wings

The repetitive sound does sing

Of a joyous take

On the night of the fireflies

I am not who I say I am but who my writing says I am; my characters define me. Like puppets in a play, they tell you who pulls the strings. I'm not who I say I am; I'm who you think I am.

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