I wish I could walk a clearer path,
A glamorous path with lots of light.
Why am I here in this broken road?
A broken road with no sign of gold.
Men in suits stroll in smooth precious tiles,
Accompanied with those poker smiles.
Ladies strut wearing light fancy hats,
Carrying a small bags and Persian cats.
I seek a poverty escape route.
What I found was the voice of a mute.
Should I walk in sharp thorns barefooted,
Or mingle with elites, unwanted?
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 12:23 AM UTC
I wish I could walk a clearer path,
A glamorous path with lots of light.
Why am I here in this broken road?
A broken road with no sign of gold.
Men in suits stroll in smooth precious tiles,
Accompanied with those poker smiles.
Ladies strut wearing light fancy hats,
Carrying a small bags and Persian cats.
I seek a poverty escape route.
What I found was the voice of a mute.
Should I walk in sharp thorns barefooted,
Or mingle with elites, unwanted?
A poem about searching for direction, where neither path leads to clarity.