Your standing in a doorway of an old house you have passed by everyday on your way to school for the last four years. You know its green paint faded, brown grass incrusted, broken down porch steps busted, boarded up window haunted husk like the back of your hand. You have heard the stories, heard the rumor, heard them feared them rushed passed to avoid them. Today though, today you are at the door, on the porch, passed the gate. Today you decided to dare, to pry, to peek. Today you will see just what the rumor is. Today you are taking your first steps. You have decided to:
Move Forward by Being Responsible.
What comes of the bravery? What comes from the scent, that far fading glow from your childhood has went. To the color of demons burn bright like this flame, the nature, the natural suffering claims.
Your bright summer cadance that blown like the wind, did fall far from tree tops where sound made up sins. And inward to homesick lost gremlins you fly, their still twisting fingers that taste as you fry.
Rememer, like all stories needing an echo, or an impulse, or that might just make excuses; recall the first will, when letting go was a mandate, and lifting up was a gift. You took a step out of the norm once before, did you not? Took one and then two and then took three more. This is the norm now. Reasoning. Your day is the most, what counts for in your way to you. It does not mean that it will be to anyone one else, all, or to them some. But to you, the most indeed.
Carry that. The urge to accomplish. Carry and care for. But be warned, dear offensive reader, you who has taken much by giving nothing; what comes from you is the same as what you get, so give more than you need.
Be, that is the law.
We now move to the trembling falsehoods of time, left to wander. Left to whispers of the faint glimps. The fading laughter. The falling transparent purposes we had when we left home.
Matthew Newton
DOC #81868
I like your choice of words and your rhyme. Keep writing.