Walking On Roses

Someday the work will pay off the scars it came with.

I will still swallow it like a bitter pill,

Looking for another blameless culprit.

The whispers use my sadness as an overplayed decoy.

But the veins in my neck run with madness,

And I know I deserve joy.

So, once in a while I dip my fingers into the light.

My essence screams in agony.

At least it gets me through the night.

I know this wild river was not meant to be mine,

It was determined before my time,

But lately I have been wondering why.

And perhaps there is life outside of this concrete.

Maybe the scars can heal just fine?

Maybe I must leave the main street?

Yet, my past selves have to eat, and I stay focused.

God, I swear on my life –

This routine feels like walking on roses.

They admire the beauty but never feel my pain.

I still fear that the path I am paving

Will be washed away by the rain.

-JW