read a letter from a friend
he's somewhere around
this bottle is cracked
but the message is the same
i know we all have separate ways
some roads turn to tracks
some roads aren't clear
but i walk any way with no map
uncharted lands are the warmest
i thank you for the time
then walk away with mine
you spend yours elsewhere
while i let mine go to waste
my compass starts to spin
as we collide with new stars
our dust crashes with another world's
and transforms before our eyes
it could be beauty, could be horror
but if anything it's only getting harder
YOU ARE READING
rats follow me
Poetryredefinition; sculpting, acceptance. figuring out which way to go. questioning mortality. new sense of direction. restarting internal insurrections. letting go and standing tall. "in a cave where light cannot be a winding maze of multiple ways to es...
