862. Untitled - September 25, 2015
Sometimes, it would be so easy
to ignore caution
and not turn away
and meet things head on
and maybe this game of chicken
would play out for real
and what would be,
would be.
Sometimes, it would be so easy
to forget others
and simply not struggle against
the fatigue that claims every day
and wraps itself around every moment
and simply dream of a permanent silence.
Sometimes, it would be so easy
to embrace the pain
that lingers in every corner
and colours every word
knowing it could be
but probably isn't
a farewell.
Sometimes, it would be so easy
to imagine another life,
that road not taken
and the morning unlived.
Sometimes, it would be so easy
to simply drift away
unbidden across the winding roads
with no true destination,
and that too,
would be a kind of death.