My Side Of The Road

January 8, 2012
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I’m not going anywhere,
The road is flat and clear,
My feet are bare,
But I’m not moving.

Don’t tell me that its not that far, I’ll last,
My shoes no longer fit my feet,
Your words just feel like broken glass,
So I’m not moving.

Save your advice for wider ears,
You have a parking space reserved,
I’d rather you not hear my tears,
So I’m not moving.

I’ll just sit here on the pavement,
Watch as people form an orderly queue,
To put their souls up for rent,
I’ll cradle mine below their feet.

And if one day you finally land,
And find your space no longer fits,
Then, too late, you’ll understand,
Why I refused to move.

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