Where does the line begin or end?
When can we say we won,
Or celebrate a victory?
It seems the road never ends,
And the journey continues forever.
Do you feel behind or superior?
Where do you walk along the ground?
The crowd walks by faster,
Calling out for others to follow,
But refuse to show the way.
They shove their way forward,
But don’t lend a hand to pull others along.
A few look behind and give advice,
Leave pathfinders to guide those left.
When running suicide drills,
You eventually give in,
When you can no longer run.
You watch the others continue,
And wish for them to stop.
So you all can move on.
In a way you cheer those more athletic folk,
But really you just want to rest,
And stop these painful exercises,
Made by the seemingly sadistic.
So where do you go?
Do you walk with open arms,
Or stop and turn them away.
Are there boundaries any more,
To preserve your sanity?
Perhaps it is better,
After all that is what they say.
Yet where is the bottom rung,
For you to grab and run,
Up the ladder they appear to climb,
To loftier heights and castles in the sky?
Who is the person behind the green curtain,
That appears to pull and tear at our minds?
If you extend your hand,
What will you receive?
Will you get another one extended in return,
Or a scratched arm bruised by the world?
For those of a softer heart and compassionate mind,
The decision must be made,
To calculate the risks and rewards,
Of whether to give their all or save it for another.
And when your resolve is hardened,
Who leaves you and who do you let go,
In the pursuit for a greater future,
Or a port in a violent storm?
So take care and watch,
Step forth if you can,
For the world will move past,
And time will continue on.
unknownclimate 