Tracks

I once was free
To write unformed;
Emotes exulted,
Convention, I scorned.
But left with nothing
Bar my own fears,
Turned to weak rhymes –
Sickening my ears.

It was you and I,
One line so trite:
For so many people –
One way to write.
Now it's I & I,
Perhaps for the best,
Despite this weight
Crushing my chest.

Writing in riddles
To hide from succour:
Dullness forthright –
A boring massacre.
My eyes see far
While I keep schtum,
And I am proud
Of whom you’ve become.

And though we flee,
I still look back:
Bound to my past
Like a train on a track.