| The Path |
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| Written by Moloch | |
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The Path Allow me to paint a picture quite quaint, T’is not of a scholar, a hero, nor a saint, This is the story of a choice once made. A choice which should never have been made. In your mind’s eye, see now what I will thee to see, A little child, aged two years, perhaps three. It toddles along as only toddlers can, Little legs trying the best that they can. See that little body, too small for it’s age, Try to keep up, try to run, try play. See the little heart soar on wings of joy, Just to see a something, a favored toy. Fast-forward now through all the years, Fast-forward now with me through all of the tears. Skip past scraped knees and broken hearts, Skip past all of the chances missed of course. See now; a young person in their teens, See now; the direction in which their life now leans. A soul incomplete, a heart beyond hope, A life now, well down the slippery slope. A person for whom life must be survived, Whose path through it they must daily surmise. Their experience gained through pain, Their purpose merely to feel their own pain. A path we must all choose regardless of reticence, The path we choose will make all the difference. I chose the Path of Least Resistance, I chose the Path to Nothingness. |
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