Going

Life’s lines write many pages, Misguiding and undefined, but leading us, Over mountains, through trees It’s quite tough though. Sour tastes, sure enough, Lots of days, have gone to waste, But there comes a time, When we, when we, Can finally fly. It might be a pain, To go with the flow, It might haunt us to chills, Scare us to death, Or excite us, With many, many thrills. But could you ask for more? Are we staring back at ourselves? Looking to start a war. This is it though, We pay our wages, We weight all the choices, Whether we stay on the ground, Or soar like an eagle, Up into the sky, Life will keep writing, Smiling back, Thinking, Its not my call. Choose silk or choose thorns, But only you could prevent that fall. In the end though, When its bright, Nothing else could be so sweet, So bestowed. Those pages, You wrote, They could be, All that they should be.