the journey

things fall apart

but that is only the start 

of a journey that may last days 

or years 

full of things,

only you can hear 

you travel down a path made of gravel

encrusting you with scars 

but no one knows,

that you have now seen Mars

and touched every star in-between

leaving no planet unseen

on your big excursion 

in which you found yourself 

becoming a new version 

of someone who resembled you

just as not nearly as blue 

This poem is about: 


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