Standing, waiting in the corridor of life
Trying to decide which way to take
Looking in a mirror cracked and distorted
Taking for granted the things known
While dismissing those that can’t be explained
In all, the paradox of problems where’s the answer
What can be said and done to change the wrongs
Who can you trust to lead the way out
For dependence must be acknowledged in us all
No man is an island, alone in a troubled sea
We must all stand together united and steadfast
Fighting for our rights, taking what is ours
Living the dream started by our forefathers
Like a torch we must carry onward
And bring to bare for our children that follow
About the Creator
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Perfect Little Pirate
The rough, sodden rope bit into her fingers as she swung over the roiling water far below. Reaching out with the toe of her boot, she managed to catch hold of the rain-soaked railing of the ship- and promptly slipped. Throwing herself forward, she landed hard on the deck, slamming her elbows against the wood planks. The sharp yelp of pain quickly bubbled into a laugh, and she rolled onto her back, laughing up at the gray sky as a torrent of rain washed away the soot covering her skin.
By M. A. Mehan 7 days ago in Fiction
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