shoes are worn out
will last they said
backpack straps are
digging into my shoulder
Rubbing it raw till the
skin starts to peel
sun is bright, bright and
intense, hurting my eye
hot sand picked up by the
wind is hurling into my face
pricking it, bruising it
lips chaffed, dry, bright
crimson drops starts to show through the cracks
Finishing of the last few
drops of water
To quench the thirst, to
ease the pain in my parched throat
still have miles to go
Before I reach my Ithaca
when I land on her shores, bruised I might be
But would have learnt all that there is
experienced life as it is meant to be.....
