Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Littered Years

After all these years,
The trees still sway gracefully in the wind,
And I still capture them in pictures and words.
All I have left is memory,
Pictures and poems,
Immature child things.
As these years breeze by me
On the wings of the wind,
It's taught me only the good, bad and pained,
But I persevere as best as is my know-how.
I've seen the dark
And my flashlight of hope truly
Kept me dragging on through the storm.
Someone once told me
I'd feel something eventually,
And my days of galloping through the forest
Would be far behind.
They made me believe
That I would eventually grow up
And these pains would evaporate.
I am grown up now, though, and
These pains have yet to dissolve.
I've fought forever with the
Haggard jagged edge of angst,
And it's a war that no one can win,
With battle scars
Littered along the littered path.

May 20, 2004

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Littered Years

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