I once heard,
Some humans were made,
To crash and burn,
Souls built,
Like scattered embers,
Pushed by the wind,
Already with a set destination,
An uncorrectable course,
Towards demise.
The burning of a forest,
Its extinction at the hands of a puddle,
All from a set origin,
A different planned course,
And yet, a set outcome.
Regardless of their decisions,
Their awareness of life's path,
Pre-destination,
As a reaper,
As a judge,
Jury,
And executioner,
Traces their unavoidable steps.
Forever a victim to themselves,
Forever lost,
Empty,
Carried by the wind.
I once heard,
Some humans were made,
To crash and burn.
YOU ARE READING
Abroad
PoetryThe purpose of this poetry book is one of defiance. Not to others, or anything in particular. It is against the war we wage internally, against ourselves every day. There is no bigger challenge in life than facing your thoughts, your true emotions...
