The Grain: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

Is there a grain to life?

A path we should fallow to make this life easer; a jagged sharpness that is to go on for days then months.

A maze of what ifs and maybe I should haves; to go against the grain that is my question.

Where do the guessing games stop?

Or do we just keep going hoping we make all the right choices when we are pressured in to them.

What corners should we not back in to?

What skeleton should we pick to let out of our closets for others to pull them apart by there limbs.

At least leave my ribs so my heart is not taken from me.

By John McKinley Pride Jr


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