I walk along paths
used so often that men no longer
differentiate between each
but call all of them together
life.
There are many other paths, choked
with rumors of death more thickly
than the weeds that have overgrown them,
diverging,
lining this one dusty road that we plod along.
Rumors of death
but this doesn't feel like life.
One of these days
I will take one of those paths
and be
gone.
