If I was to be something, anything, I needed to start my foot path anywhere but here
on the left,
were all the right reasons to go that way,
interminable cloudless skies,
an indelible feeling of perfection,
inevitably followed with angst over such flawlessness
But I could run,
I could always run very far from all of this,
because I had my feet
on the right,
were all the wrong reasons to come this way,
carelessness of landscape,
the dissipation of wildlife,
the counterfeit shadowboxing of what lay ahead,
a jewelry box filled with unfulfilled promises
But I could run,
I could always run very far from all of this,
because I had my feet
and I had them here,
in front,
and behind these window panes of mine
No comments:
Post a Comment