So Far

I never really had the time to think
The day the week the month became a year
I found myself alone and on the brink
The man who wanted home no longer here
It’s hard to differentiate in time
The pressure cooker offers no release
I wondered when the end of days will chime
The ticking of the bomb might never cease
But on the edge I chose to not
turn back
The pressure dropped and I was falling free
I liked the landing off the beaten track
A chance to work out who I’d like to be
With time to kill a journey of my own
So far from here and very far from home


Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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