Walkin On

April 7, 2009
Walking home is probably the shortest, but longest journey.
It's the giant steps of

and small movement to

I watch everyone walking by me, ready to engulf some other world that I have no need to worry about.
They're all in a hurry to go

but the question is

"Where to?"
I don't know.
I look on to the people I know as

"my future",
but longingly look at

"my past."
That seem to hold on to me like caked mudd after a good rain.
I run pass the blaring cars and the roaring winds. I see the people

"how far do they go?"
I don't know.
I sing to the birds that fly on pass me like they have nothing to worry about. I laugh to the jokes played in my head, from earlier on that day. I

what the meanings really meant, and I

to cemented roads home.
I see my home in the short distance

for me to reach it, yet everytime I feel closer, I feel like I am more

to get there.

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Vmusic said...
Apr. 21, 2009 at 3:40 am
Wow, I liked how you set the poem up! It had a good rythm to it. :) I also liked how it was something most people can relate to! Great job and keep writing!
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