Just A Thought
Life doesn't hand out free passes,
You push through the current,
Or swim parallel to get back to shore,
I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be anymore:
these words fill my atmosphere like mildew from a wrinkled, wet
sweater of 1986. I want to fix everything that
has walked and waited into my life.
Moving felt like a turnpike,
Or a catapult of rocks hurdling past the position of the city,
The home I left my heart in.
Sometimes, I regret my decisions, but I know that they will make me stronger,
even if it's like a bullet piercing through my heart,
Tainting flesh that digs into
my chest as I wheeze to intake the oxygen
that chemically bonds my life.
Nothing's ever been easy,
usually since life
dies when giving out free passes.