Another mold, another hold
within life’s seemingly discrepant choices,
those that drag us to our recompense,
the balance so maligned,
the voices that haunt our waking dreams,
the struggle we cannot resign.
Like vagrants we wander thought,
careless mutterings of indiscriminate venting,
and paths ensue to review our wants,
so recklessly appropriated in truth,
that come back as a ruse,
and bite us hard for our trouble.
We so often slither from one form to another,
unbeknownst our reason,
grasping at straws, abhorred to be bored
in the meandering, directionless life we sew,
so bereft yet capable of choosing,
to cease the losing and have all to which we aspire.
These molds are masks of ill-content,
layers of purposeless fear manifest,
and the more we cling to them,
the more lost we become,
the sum of all our fears the shell
that keeps a life from living.
Honesty to self is a revelation,
a chosen path of examination,
that may hurt in ensuing, a shock for the viewing,
yet the only key to freedom that we possess,
to know who we are and may become
when we are free of our fears.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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