i still feel broken down
like a road less traveled by
but one that still has cracks
and weeds growing
from under the concrete
and there is a storm in the distance
i can feel it beckoning me
into its cold yet harboring embrace
i feel at peace here,
standing on the precipice of
what i know will haunt me
but wanting so achingly to fall into
this stretch of familiarity
goes on for miles
i almost cannot see the end
but maybe that is just my eyes
playing tricks on me
alluring me until i am ridden
with paralyzation;
until i am a statue,
reminding those of what used to be
this road may never be re-paved again,
the storm might threaten to destroy all that i have,
and i might be tempted to chip away at myself
at least i am still standing
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
i still feel broken down
like a road less traveled by
but one that still has cracks
and weeds growing
from under the concrete
and there is a storm in the distance
i can feel it beckoning me
into its cold yet harboring embrace
i feel at peace here,
standing on the precipice of
what i know will haunt me
but wanting so achingly to fall into
this stretch of familiarity
goes on for miles
i almost cannot see the end
but maybe that is just my eyes
playing tricks on me
alluring me until i am ridden
with paralyzation;
until i am a statue,
reminding those of what used to be
this road may never be re-paved again,
the storm might threaten to destroy all that i have,
and i might be tempted to chip away at myself
at least i am still standing
Request permission to use this poem