The Path.

You strayed from the path

stumbling blind into the sky somewhere,

tumbling into another corner of this 

roundabout earth.

Because it's all just swings and roundabouts

and your shadows come back to bite you.

You bit off more than you could chew,

you chose to,

your need for freedom

was in fact your greed for power,

to feel in control of the life they said was not your own.

You had to prove them wrong, and run alone,

so you strayed from the path,

the fields beside were so much wider,

filled with grassy carpets and flowers,

and now you're lost among them,

unable to find your way back

to the path.

Sometimes that's okay

but you can see the path there always,

and wonder where it might have led

if you hadn't strayed.

Would you be in a place where the grass is greener?

If you were patient,

if you were strong?

Or was this the failure made for you all along?

They said you would burn

for your wayward ways

but you had to know for sure

you weren't invincible.

Because the fire was so warm and pretty

and it wouldn't hurt you

if you told it not to.

The path is still there and it calls you,

but these flowers have become vines,

they tie you down and hold you,

and you just give up struggling after a while.

Because it's too late for redemption anyway,

right?

amina bhatti