Each word doesn't have to perfectly rhyme.
We herd dozens at a time,
to service the climb,
to serve as a guide.
The burdens we find are the worms
to the birds in our lines,

further
winding along, to a life of a search
is to thrive; an adventure to mine;
to sense in the back of our minds
that a fifth of our life, will be spent
getting sights realigned.

Pining for growth,
styling the spine in our notes.
Fly if we do.
Die if we don't.
Die to the wild.
Die to the child that shoots that
fire from our throats

"Why didn't I..," You'll say,
on a day you remember, the tune
of a song that you wrote, then BOOM!

Thoughts cascade.
Brought that pain to your heart
like you fought with a ghost.

Don't get lost,

but if you do,

take notes.