the world is just really a jig saw of roads.
and in this corner, it's twisted and endless
a labyrinth of questions and variables
a maze of paradoxes and curveballs.
three years I've spent—
trying to navigate,
but there is no map to the enigma you are,
and I've never been any good at following stars.
but the more time I spend
getting lost on these roads,
the more peaceful the trails become
and the more familiar, the trees—
and the signs—
and the rocks—
and the turns—
when the labyrinth I'm stuck in seems more beautiful than before.
more vibrant—
and honest—
and exquisite—
and then suddenly being lost isn't such a bad thing.
YOU ARE READING
Deepest Afflictions to Random Speculations
PoesíaSometimes We cry Sometimes We laugh Sometimes It's one of the same thing Warning: may contain strong language, adult themes, and an unnecessary amount of "extra".
