I watch people do things,
trek the wilderness or
scale a mountain,
and I think--
I can do that--
because to admit
that I can't
is to somehow admit
defeat and the restlessness
the one growing inside
will die
without a struggle
and I I
will be like everyone else
that walks on the hard, black concrete
between the earth and sky.
I will be less
less happy
less free
less of a romantic
less me
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Great poem ! I guess the same thought HAS occurred to me too; though it seems in a different form. Many a times, on seeing people do stuff, I have dreamt of doing it.
critique: the last line doesn't go right "poetically". I'd like something with more than 2 syllables.
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