The Weight of Signatures

Each time I write it, I feel a strange weight,

a flourish of lines that determines my fate.

The pen glides in circles, a crafted routine,

as if I’m reciting a role to be seen.

A curve and a dot like a star in the night,

performing a version of me, just so right.

Yet inside I’m questioning, does it still hold?

a name on the page, but the story feels cold.