are bolted

the doors are locked

wearing scars on soul

with a limp and a bounce

these bleeding feet keep walking

following this horrible path

in isolated desperation


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allets's picture

The Path

Approacheth the end of the garden. The walk was short as time goes. The roses smiled, a tad too broadly, the rain refreshed and drenched ending drained. But there is elevating joy knowing that ending up far future fertilizer, the sun will rise gloriously and the stars at night will celebrate against the darkness. Hope is how we walk to the last tile of the garden's path :D ~S~



georgeschaefer's picture

thank you.  nice observations

thank you.  nice observations there.