I can understand how depression seeps in.

Not knowing where you are going.

Not cherishing where you have been.

Hobbling along to the sounds of remorse with diluted spirits in hand.

Traveling off course… I often misplace where I stand.

The seeds of riches are never planted.

And, makeshift religions ringing…a dinner bell.

With certainty…

Along the roadways…are infringed upon bundles to kindled hell.

Handling myself tight…

My body…

A commodity for wounds afflicted…

Thrashing about are all the souls lost…

to the sky…now lifted.

With one brave step forward.

I linger around a blind corner.

But to concede midway…

Would present pity with honor.

 

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