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People are always getting ready for tomorrow, But tomorrow never gets ready for them. In fact, it doesn't even know they are there. They choose and anxiety - Or rather, An anxiety chooses them -
The road less traveld is the Papa and the son walked They serach and search, but only a child's or is it a baby's that they find? They search and survive, They search and survive. On and on until they fly.
Storm clouds gather overhead, Threaten to steal away his last bread. Kindness vanishes overnight, Leaving him to suffer alone and in fright. A hand stretches out scarred, open, and bear.