The Roads That Cross Us

alcoholicpoet.com

a sad poem about inevitable decisions. 


the canopy of time. all festering knots and shivering resentment. a stilted assembly of changes never to be realized.

the end has its own voice. the quiet disciples of change. they peel away our skin looking for the monsters underneath.

evolution is weak. like gravity.

we fall not because, but in spite of it.

we polish our crowns while the wind chews up our paper wings.

the economy of choice is such that the balance is always negative.

the truth is loud enough, but we choose not to hear.

the doors to our cages are unlocked, but still we don't leave.


Filed under: November 2024 Sad Poems