The glass beneath my feet, I walk along this path Narrow and treacherous The blades almost glass I walk barefoot non-the-less. Seeking sand between my toes And sun on my back.
This grass could be worse Slicing my hills atop the jagged rocks Bleeding until my heart stops.
I need to find my rest As the moon climbs high in the sky And the sun plummets to the abyss Must I seek out a cave or forest canopy? Beyond the borders of my four foot path I cannot see A curtain of darkness shrouds both sides
There once was a world outside this path I know there must be another direction than the path I walk. One of beauty and tenderness But I have seen neither beauty nor tenderness And my mussels have began to ach And honestly, I fear the rest for I might not wake
I once came upon this flower The stem stood tall and the bloom grew red and blue. Beauty grew from this path And I picked this flower Because I must have this beauty with me, In the instant, the roots left the ground The flower wilted to a dull black and crumbled in my hand
A world that must remain beyond the darkness Beyond my path Has been picked and wilted And left blindness among people
I now stagger along this four-foot wide path Missing most the autumn leaves That never falls to my path. The glistening snow Which has never been underfoot, The summer springs That I have not swam to cool my body.
The seclusion however Doesn’t bring a thorn to my heart My fellow’s destruction Is greater than my destruction of beauty More tortures than the sight of this path They are the ones who have picked the world from my sight Therefore, which situation is better? Ones who see the horrors Or the one who believes it doesn't exist?