Streets Of Life Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Streaming down hot, black, tar-paved streets, looking for
life to meet my needs, stopping off and on, never getting
what I'm looking for down streets of life.

Seeing sights, beauty, along the way, finding an umbrella
once in a while for shade to rest beneath, losing all hope
when looking up ahead at my horizon.

It's too far out of reach and standing still within my mind
the choices of life cannot be defined for they haven't any
definition.

Grief from the past pounding and pressing heavily upon my
life's blood, causing pain to fill my tormented mind, then
causing it to turn inside out.

Searching for reasons, meanings of it's scattered fragment-
ed existence, finding only reasons from the past, that have
brought this lasting impression of what life is about.

Leaving no room for asking questions, just leaving many un-
settling doubts creeping out from pages of yesterday's mem-
ories.

Debris piled high, giving life an image of being a dump, a
garbage pile rife with pain, standing on the edge, looking
back, slipping, falling, landing in a heap upon the ground.