[POEM] Ways to Run

WinterCrossroads_zps7a1c79c4

I’m caught in a cage,

bound at the crossroads,

staring down my paths.

I’ve been constantly closed

off from my choices.

Now I’m stuck hearing voices,

those incessant noises

sting my heart like poison,

“You will never get forward,

you are barred from behind.

Just take in the scenery,

curl close to yourself, and die.”

Progress is illusion;

a destination

with no location.

I lead the invasion

that ends in abortion

of plans gone wrong.

I’ve never been strong

in conviction

of my lifelong

nothings. No dreams

to help me seem

ready for things.

I need to scream,

and then drink some mead

to mellow me.

The soothing, thick warm

of alcohol and honey

brings my limbs to life;

I tighten like gunny.

Illusion is reality;

I have made this cage,

and I can unmake its bars

as realistically as they stand in front of me,

they are gone.

And I am free

to choose which way I run.

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