Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dare I say, lost
Confused even
Hemorrhaging at the directions
I know which way is north
But not where life is going
No map can plan that course
Charting maps with alacrity
Set sail as Magellan
Yet land with such insipid wording
That the book of tales I pen is a thesaurus of fabrication

— The End —