Living leaves its marks
in wrinkles and laughter lines
or battle scars
which, some wear with pride
whilst others try to hide them
in the depths of their

smoke and mirrors blind us
to our truths
we’d rather believe what
isn’t there than have
to face the pain we need to
through the error
of our ways.

The maze is one long walk
from start to end
with codes to be deciphered
by minds which do not understand
the many reasons, why


shadows on the shades declare
this will be another
beautiful day.


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Poets United Pantry #105