The path seeks onward.

I shamelessly follow the footsteps placed before me.

It seems as though my eyes are blind,

and so un in tune with my heart.

Threatening the old to melt away into nothing,

as I follow whatever journey comes next.

I come across endless traps of straight paths,

yet, I only seem to be able to go sideways.

Differences mend wounds, but new scars are formed.

There are some scars that can never disappear.

How much more time is going to be consumed with these memories?

Memories of pain, hurt, and sorrow.

Who predicts what love is and where it goes?

Why are there so many tangible forms of love and hate,

yet the inner soul is the thing built or damaged?

It’s a feeling so strong and powerful,

twisted with confusion and worry.

The thing I dread the most

dangles in front of my face, showing me life and death.

The realization of the enemy of myself equals pain.

My mind seems to speak for itself,

yet no words seem to ever be heard.

6.6.99