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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1792243
Sometimes they're good, sometimes not.
We follow paths already tread,
walking roads already read.

Finding ways already found,
fearing all the other sounds.

The paths are easy, they move fast,
those routes were surely built to last.

But there's a great wide world out there,
it's all for us, we all can share.

Although the path is set ahead,
you might prefer to stray instead.

Run fingers through the knee-high blooms,
find hope in long-forgotten rooms.

We'll get to where we're meant to be,
a happy end is all I see.
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