Wallowing in the mud of life's destruction, unafraid of
by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
it's pastimes, alert to it's dangers.
Perilous prisons of guilt and shame unlock the doors of
Unholy odors of an abusive past strike out, stinging eyes
with blurting tears.
Silently standing aside, allowing expansive films of
posterity to view images contained in the still moving
Unlike joyful steps we take on our unwavering paths,
sidelines careen past, leaving us to wonder what has
happened all this time.
Why weren't we shown which way to go to avoid the pit-
falls of life?