Generational Curse Poem by Marguerite Anderson

She left home to journey along
the road less traveled,
She had no compass, then
But only the vision of her journey's end.
No torch to guide her steps
along life's treacherous path.
Draped with the dread and fear of the aural And her impenetrable structure wrought, Surely that should suffice
To sway her from the temporal.
Alas, who knew she would meet
her unrequited dreams?
The alternate road would have made no difference, it seems,
For on that journey- inside her clutched purse - The unknown content was a generational curse.