We are lost.
Some will be found.
Other will remain in the maze of solitude;
Most because their stubbornness
Blocks the view they need
To recognize the attention necessary.
The world isn't as simple as it once was.
There are new, undiscovered paths
With every word that is spoken.
Some will be rotten.
Some will be watered.
The attention we need is led by one path
That still remains unknown.
The dense will linger at dead ends.
The intelligent will compose an advanced path.
The lost will follow the wrong crowd
Leading to an unfinished destination;
The found had been alone
With their once scrambled thoughts,
Mapping the maze of this world
We call home.
YOU ARE READING
Hurt, Pain, Regrets
Poetrywhy do we endure such pain, in such little time? {my rant of poems}
