Bad Poetry Thursday: Cracks in the Asphalt

I am told I am a warrior
Because of eight years of my life
That I gave away
Because I knew no true direction

I’m called a Priest
Because of the Spiritual Path
That I have chosen
To place my feet upon

I’m neither of those and both
Just an individual
Scrambling daily for direction
In a world where I have no control

I’m not a tall pine tree
Within the boundaries of a long-survived forest
I’m not the prairie wild grasses
That create the endless seas of the plains

If anything at all
I can be described
Simply as that small flower
Growing in the crack of the asphalt

Just trying to survive
In the concrete jungle
While longing for my place
Within the wilderness of the world

–T /|\

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