Following self without seeing,
In charge of another being,
The one deep down inside,
Walking cause one cannot ride…
White fluff covering said path,
In bloody remnants taking a bath,
Uneven so we cannot do the math,
Less & less known of idiopathy…
Fear begets fear,
On the way down the path,
So we are as well austere,
Must clear off a psychotic veneer…
Be well,
Christine
Great poem, BTW.
Ron
fee
Roger
Regis
Ewe certainly R 'Psycho' ... and yer path is strewn with ... ROSE'
(oops - that's a wine) .... I mean ROSES! :) TK.
Peace be with you Brother
William