There was never the thought
"I should be like them."
Uniqueness was desired
and a distinct path
until a fork in an unworn trail
became a call to another direction.
Unheeded were voices shouting of
things, material goods,
destine to rot behind you
as you ***** through the valleys.
Tromp on a course to mountains
few shall view.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC
There was never the thought
"I should be like them."
Uniqueness was desired
and a distinct path
until a fork in an unworn trail
became a call to another direction.
Unheeded were voices shouting of
things, material goods,
destine to rot behind you
as you ***** through the valleys.
Tromp on a course to mountains
few shall view.
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