Poetry

THE PATH HE WANDERS

A hopeless "meaningless" life is what they see
As he chose to survive within his means
The anguish of pain pounding his thick skin
Death's cold eyes stared him in the face
The message was crystal clear
It is him against the world 

But as he goes about in his business
A gentle breeze massages the hairs on his skin
Then a still small soothing voice echoes
A glimmer of hope beckons
And there came a soothing lotion 
He mutters "this is the path I chose to wander regardless if I make it"



Dee ✍️