History is torn​ by fog

Youth was full of fun and games
The road a path my small hands made,
The clock spins and time moves on
Days of fun now beginning​ to fade.

With each step across this crumbling bridge
I fear I will slip,
Falling through my mind’s maze
Wondering what caused the trip.

Sky is fogged and the sun lays hidden
My eyes are blinded with doubt,
Arms out I keep moving
Feet gripping the wood as I let out my final shout.




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