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Path to Nowhereland
The path below our feet
Soft whispers
Hugging our toes with teeth
Legs numb
Like an anchor pulling us down
Held captive
Like a sad and talentless clown
No makeup
A writer with an inkless quill
Blank pages
With nothing left to spill
Empty mind
A clock without the time
Lost
A beer without a lime
Bitter
Rose without it's petals
Broken
A loom without a heddle
Pointless
Where shall the thread pass if not here?
Where do we go if our path is not clear?
Dreams forgotten
A plane with nowhere to land
A passion wasteland….



© Writer_At_Heart