London Poem: Day 98

23 November

Follow the lines, and you won’t
Get hurt.
Little dots plot
Here and there, as subtle
Where does the self live in
Guided steps?
Blinking, it simply
Slips away
And I follow blindly.
I become what I’m driven to,
Pieced together by parts
Left beside the road.
I am everything like you.
So, as it begins to narrow,
The road and where we might be
Headed, tell, if I stray,
And place me back in line.


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