Poem- Open to interpretation
Thouroughfare of sadness.
Fraying at the seams
like a mother who has just lost a child.
of hurried feet.
A majority in aimless wander.
Artful lines of vulcanized, amorphous elasticity-
Make us as dizzy
as the stumbling drunk on the corner.
Calculated is my walk, I yearn for an opening-
A void in this collection of concrete-
Below is where my fulfillment
lies in patient wait,
like an expectant virgin-
Away from these miserable masses.
Night is coming for me.
I should really go
but I am conned by the consoling color of twilight.
Each Facade as uneven as the questions
swarming in my head.
In my hands I cup my fate
like precious water.
Should I stay or go?