Poem: Going

Is my love worth giving?

Is my love worth receiving?

I see the future and I see the pain.

They both have one thing in common that I do not see me.

When I walk the path that holds my hand.

The world of fireflies fills the land where trees no longer stand.

I no longer dreaming the dream of who knows.

My story is written, but it will never be told.

This pain that boils deep inside is starting to bubble and roar over the sides.

There is nothing more for me to write, and nothing more to say.

I do not know where I am, but I know where I will never go.