Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Growing From A Wasteland

Maybe it was meant to be,

honestly, it’s so hard to tell,

all roads have been taken off the map,

I am walking with my eyes closed,

running every now and then,

inside a maze of my own making.

Let the answers be clearer when dawn breaks,

obvious and open, crystalline and closer,

violet rain raising my soul from the dead,

ending the apprehension, at last,

so I can finally live.

All that remains is to open the front door,

smile as she stands before me,

holding out a hopeful hand,

letting everything go, for a moment.

Iridescent eyes shine up ahead.

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