W. I. P Poem by JAY WALK

Two roads diverge in a wood,
none leading to my address.
If I could choose I really would,
but I'm only a work in progress.

Breaths quicken as passing eyes stare
I worry not for it's okay.
I take my time to be aware
amidst a thousand leaves decayed.

Words break bones, dreams called lies;
they really leave nothing unsaid.
But I am more than a compromise-
an actor of the stage ahead.

So I take no shame in hiding a heart
drowned in chaos-tasting gin,
But I am no sweet summer's child;
I keep the stillness within.

Two roads diverge in a wood
and I couldn't care more or less,
for I choose to take no one's path
Because I am a work in progress.