Old Wooden Stairs Poem by Lance Carthen

True love has slipped through my fingertips.
In the dark I cry on a starlit night.
The oak tree's reach is high in the distance.
These wooden stairs are never soft.
I see possibilities all around me.
But my hearts a slave inside an electric fence.
Can never smoke enough to make me feel free.
On a cold, lonely night I sit and reminise.
In the night skys lies simple answers to life.
As the darkness ends, a new dawn emerges.
The sun has risen I still cant decide...
Is going on another day... really worth it?