@EdwardConnor

Troubles chase us, we run with stiff legs
Crooked paths - that we claim to have found.
Untravelled senses, purged and returned
Rave for the yellow tinge of the bidding Sun
We all have places we know and that we do not know
It takes all the will to keep from going into the old attic
Otherwise, submerged with mental waste.

© EdwardConnor