Old Stuff

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Unchanging are the minds of the narrow and old,
as detours prove unwelcome, unsettling, and bold.
So set in their ways, paths rigid and worn,
forgetting all else, possibilities unshown.
But forsaking one's happiness for the good graces of foes,
is delivering to oneself the most detrimental of blows.

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On a crisp, cool night, no worries fill my mind
as heavy tears fall and raw emotion blinds,
a gasp of breath feels so painfully clear
as my heart opens wide to release my deepest fear.

Not a fear of loneliness or another's words
meant with such a painful bitter sting,
but to be grouped amongst the massing herd
as just another common place thing.

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