The next morning was about to bring the hotel's inauguration. I haven't seen the place yet, but it was supposed to be bigger and more expansive in facilities than the last place in the woods. Furthermore, plenty of human employees were supposed to be working under me as well, although how that would work out remains to be seen since I haven't met a single one of them.
'I will be missed for I am loved,
I will be remembered for they hold me dear in memory.
And yet this suffocation trapped within,
Makes me claw at that reality.
Am I not meant to be happy?
Am I not meant to be free?
I ask myself over and over,
Only to receive silence for an answer.'
A poem, never thought I would write one. Much less one that would be legible; and yet as I sat on this desk with pen in hand, words flooded out of me on their own as if it's always been a part of me.
"What makes a soul?" I asked myself, not knowing who I was.