A road most traveled

No it doesn’t rhyme, but I think it sings with a whisper of truth.
I will post another poem of sorts to make up for this self indulgence. I’m sorry, ...I’m a bit cynical today.
Rick


“Your conception is a gallows.
Your birth is a trap door that opens to let you fall.
Your life is a length of rope you travel.
Your death is at the end of that noose that snaps your neck.
All else is theory or blind faith.”

By
rickatoz
May 26, 2002 (7:17am)