Hallways
Another poem from my dark ages. I don't think this one particularly triggering, more observational.
Hallways
I walk through this dark hallway
Its stones are wrought of truth.
Though I walk this path with passion
I've found not yet the proof
That this is indeed a token
of all that lies ahead.
The world in barren question
when all of us are dead.
I walk through this bright hallway,
The glare it hides the facts.
The truth of generations
written by the chaos.
This law of nature's sale,
Man is rather frail,
and as such will fail.
I have walked through many hallways
none are quite the same
Their contemplations differ,
for the season, and the name.
But life is of this nature,
it's all part of the game.
Walk them all again,
you'll find no two the same.
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