From Imaginary Ripples · Stories

The Road Less Travelled

I’m really not entirely certain what is compelling me to post every piece of fiction and poetry I’ve ever written (well, the ones that I still have copies of and that don’t make me want to puke halfway through the first line at least). Anyways, here’s a poem I apparently wrote at some point. I think it is strong evidence as to why I should stick to prose, essays, and technical writings…

Fiery knife,
Story o’my life.
A heartbeat away,
From going astray.
Into the wood,
Where it could.
Up the hill,
Looking for a pill.
Where the magic,
Stops the tragic.
Where the load,
Meets the road.
And the mad,
Meet the glad.

Up the hill,
To find the pill.
Search to the end,
Without the mend.
There is no magic,
To stop that tragic.
There is a road,
With a load.
A load to bear,
And still be fair.
To make the choice,
And to rejoice.
To take the path,
And to laugh.

Fiery knife,
Story o’my life.

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