I feel absolutely lost in this world of roadmaps and street signs. Why can't I ever go in the right direction? My heart is plotting an insurrection against my brain, and slowly I'm sinking back into the dark lonely woods where the damp leaves only remind me of regret. But maybe I'm better off in a place where I never have to see the sun. And one day, far from now, I will no longer long for its brightness, but dismiss it as a figment of my imagination. It's not like the sun affects the path, it just tells you whether or not you're following it.
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Poetry Catalog
PoetryThe best part about writing is that sometimes it speaks to you.
