There's this path I daily troll
Where the lights hang low.
Closing my eyes to my pain
Just to open my eyes to this path
Is all it takes for me to be okay, a bit.
Inhaling the asthmatic fumes of life,
Only to exhale them all at this path
Gives me joy, a bit.
Clasping the torrents of life on paper
Only to set them to ashes on this path
Is just the perfect bliss, at least a bit.
But with the lights hanging low
As paper turns to ashes
As life's cruel fumes escapes my nostrils
I realize this truth even though it's clear as crystal
My heart still refuse to sponge it in.
For as I bade bye to my woes on this path
My worries and woes stick like glue
To this path,
Life's haunting fumes, finally began to haunt this path I duly love.
Even if it's a place I love,
The lights can't shine too bright
For the smokes from my burning woes
Has done nothing but fill this path.
Poetry is that path, of solace and pain
With haunting words I dare not glimpse again
©Zoe
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