It's not that I believe it doesn't end.
Its just the angle- I cant see for the bend.
I've been walking this plastic corridor since
I pushed through the blackened door unwittingly.
And it's not that I'm longing to walk it with a friend.
I just hope that I make it out the other side fittingly.
Because what If I've grown
Much to large for my humanly confines?
And what if all I own
Is the rags on my back and a collection of fines?
Will I pass through the doors without interrogation?
Or be doomed to walking this squinted corridor
with nothing but a tireless and ever wasting patience?
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
It's not that I believe it doesn't end.
Its just the angle- I cant see for the bend.
I've been walking this plastic corridor since
I pushed through the blackened door unwittingly.
And it's not that I'm longing to walk it with a friend.
I just hope that I make it out the other side fittingly.
Because what If I've grown
Much to large for my humanly confines?
And what if all I own
Is the rags on my back and a collection of fines?
Will I pass through the doors without interrogation?
Or be doomed to walking this squinted corridor
with nothing but a tireless and ever wasting patience?
