If the road less traveled becomes the road most searched for,
The pristine path loses its once saut after vacancy.
The perfect pebbles will begin to whether from the frequent traffic,
Of passersby who search for individuality.
The once flat trail will begin to slouch under the heavy burden of unhappiness,
And the yearning its travelers carry with them.
Thus as times wears on the road less traveled becomes a major highway,
Leaving the old roads to be overgrown and deserted just as this road once was.
Perhaps we should not search for the road less traveled,
But instead search for a road that is our own.
We should make a way of our own and then nurture it,
Weed it and fill the pot holes that inevitably happen along the way.
Perhaps treading a road already paved will leave us as yearning as before if not even more.
Let's leave the road less traveled and all other roads set forth by others,
And follow the ones we make for ourselves.
Our roads may cross and perhaps even merge every now and then,
But my road will always be mine and your road always yours.
Maybe then we will know where we are going,
Creating our own roads instead of searching for answers among roads that are not our own,
Only seemingly meant for us.