I rather walk alone,
Taking one step at a time.
Cutting the shrubs that hurt,
And leaving them behind.
I dont want an anchor,
I dont want a stick,
to help me walk,
nor pull me back,
or one that I have to drag.
I want air,
To breath in easy.
Stay there
to give me cool
when the way is rough.
I want a lose braid,
To twine,
without being afraid or scared.
I see people
tangled in a mesh,
with a heavy breath.
I see them.
Climb mountains and
reach peaks
with a heavy heart, torn apart.
Then people ask me.
Why not you?
Make me ask myself,
Why me?
But how can I?
I have seen,
The glass shatter,
The body cry,
The thread die,
And yet,
They ask me to try?