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𝑊𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑
𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑟,
𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒;
𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑦
𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑟,
𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒.
𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒,
𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑;
𝐾𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦
𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑐 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒,
𝐼 𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ,
𝑆𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑡.
𝑊𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠,
𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑙𝑦, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑦;
𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒
𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠,
𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ.
𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙,
𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙;
𝐶𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙,
𝐼 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙,
𝑃𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝐼 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙.
𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑦,
𝑌𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ.
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𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐈: 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
Poetry𝐴 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 :𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒. Life is a labyrinth full of intricate passageways, b...
