Many have walked this path before me, and yet the corpses are so few, The ones that lie before me, are warnings painted a crimson hue, Warnings that most before me found wise enough to heed, This only made
Why is it, that in a world, with a million sights to see, And a time, when there are, a hundred places to be, At a juncture, that has a hundred emotions to feel, That you suddenly turn away, becoming
Every one of us has travelled, walked down many a different road, But very few among us remember how, and fewer, why we trode, For most of us, it was simply a linear journey from path to the next, Choosing
The things that keep us together, are the ones keeping us apart, And the things keeping us apart, are the strings tying each other’s heart, Even two rooms with a common wall, are separated by a door, When opened, it
Nobody knew when he slept, when he went and came, All we knew, was that ‘Tanker’ Ralph was his name, That he would be at the docks hours before the boat, A decade-long dream, the only sound from his throat.