Walking steady on these lands.
On easy yoke, rest my hands.
Holding this ancient fetter.
This frontier seems much better.
All new and strange to the last.
Come across a well-worn path.
Track of dirt across this place.
There’s no way I could not face,
This path with high grassy sides.
Been here before, I confide.
Many times once and before.
Already know what’s in store.
This path makes me feel powerless.
As it breeds shame and cowardice.
I recall many excuses.
All of which had many uses.
To shun responsibility.
To kill off possibility.
But that’s not true, that’s not right.
I knew I’d turn from that fight.
While others took up arms,
I stayed here to avoid harm.
It was my choice, it was me.
That is the truth I now see.
With that thought, again I’m trapped,
Poisoned vines are ever apt.
At keeping me right in this rut.
Familiar tickling on my gut.
Back upon that well-worn trail.
It’s the path from which I hail.
Why do I fall to this way?
Yet again I’ve been made prey.
Why do I dwell on this trifle?
Need a way to break the cycle.
It’s my person, is it not?
It’s a feature I forgot.
Seems that I’ll forget again.
Tendencies I can’t explain.
© 2019 TheRememberings Ltd.