This is very recent. I wrote it within the last day.
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Trip
Is it courage or fear that keeps me here,
On this So called Vacation
A trip for man to dispose of his ambitions,
This destination that reveals child-like admosity.
Why have I come?
Reasons are like White Water Rapids in life,
With sound and flow but unstable and impetuos,
That is what this trip is like,
like a reason with no punch line
A story with no conclusion
yet my life in General is like the Rapids
It bears down on you and pulls in all directions
Hoping to God your ethical upbringing will prevent you from flipping into the water.
But flip I have
Stuck in the White Bubbly Doom of a speedy Grave
Air has sucked from my lungs and my arms have become numb, useless.
I know that i need to resurface
To restore my place in the calm current so i can find my own path.
But on this trip, I have forgotten how.
How to bring myself back from the depth
And so I drown on this trip, this so called Vacation
The story of my life not to be told or seen,
Just a cold corpse to bring back to an empty office.
For it was not the realization of loss that lost me,
It was the loss of my realization that drowned me.
Funny how life is nothing more than a grave when you can't follow
Your own path.
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It's not the one who asks the question,
It is the one who recieve's the inquiry.