PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Ive built a rode,

at first merely a dirt trail,

pushing a cart with stones and cement,

re-collection all of my bad steps,

feet dragging,

immense sense of fatigue,

my speech tunnels are dry,

feel as dirt is my only meal,

eyes droopy and almost rolling back,

as I face front and back to the dirt ground,

I see the condors hovering over me

asking themselves

which is the most tender part,

a rode in the begging seem to be short,

structured form of a few rocks,

but as I ascend the dirt rode,

my feet have been sore,

cuts and bruises, nails removing,

skin dry so slow is peeling off,

yet as I pass more rocks to my basket cart,

have grown muscular

do to the immense weight push,

yet walking with a great smile,

fall face to the floor,

dirt all over my eyes,

creating mud with the salty fluid

appearing from my forehead,

I trip once again,

condors

I think you have to starve once again

cause in mind is only one thing,

the rode once build,

not long simply covering about 10 miles,

yet my life is still extended,

so I walk and recollect,

hope all the once pick up rocks

would not be my default once again,

they are place in that rode,

I look back,

simply a once upon a time,

happy to dump all of them

and my feet can rest,

but I am not happy

for my rode must be expanded for miles,

I live in LA

but I bet I would like to settle on Rome,

I have built a rode,

of stones from my life,

I would be safe

cause I can walk bare feet back,

yet is I go forward,

I have to obtain my basket cart

and once again recollect