We can stretch and pull at our flesh over our rusty bones
Yet we still too small for our voices to be heard in this universe
Because the shadows that smother our whispers in the night make it impossible for our souls to communicate with our loud minds
A mindless endeavor to do something more than just existing
None of this makes any sense
Nonetheless does it make any sense to pursue
However an inevitable journey on a world that will continue to spin no matter how hard we try and stop it
Weary fingertips trace roads on gas station maps just trying to find a new beginning
We all have this hope that the grass is greener on the other side
Seldom to think that all grass dies if you forget to water it
We are tired of the same old town but too scared of the unknown to do anything but plant our feet into the soil of the earth
And grow exactly where we landed
Perhaps this is all a game of luck
It is completely random who sinks and who floats
However lately the odds have not been in my favor
YOU ARE READING
the in-between
Poetrypoems and short stories about everything this world has to offer and everything it can take away. this is about the pursuit of happiness, the mindless endeavors of sadness, and everything in between. welcome to the extraordinary life of an average h...
