Peck, peck, little bird.
Sharpen your beak on the rocks,
turn mountains to dust.
About the Creator
Oby
Writing from the heart, for fun. Thank you to anyone reading my work.
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This one is my favorite so far!