Left For Denver
de foxtails
Frenzied for means of escape
Consciousness melds with the days
Longing for a state from before the decay
Tedious flows turn to sludge
Praying that fate holds no grudges
Carrying on with distrust
How unjust
Is this what it’s like to grow up?
To realize everything’s fucked up?
To realize dreams are delusions of youth?
No room for missteps
Easily caught in spiderwebs
Wisdom feels worthless when compared to innocence
Yet faith is embedded and infinite
The beauty of life is ubiquitous
The soul dies when all it can do is reminisce
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