Poetry of thought

.Banned.

My course is turning.
The shop is in my view.
The shop I promised
Never to return.

I had stolen.
I had broken.
And now,
My path seems stuck.

My bike is breaking
And yet I still go
The closer I get,
The thicker the brush.

It scrapes and stabs
As I pursue the withered shop,
My pockets already full.