one lonely set of foot prints

time is sifting off her hands

like beach sand through her fingers

foot steps imprinted, mark her road

while she walks a path where no memories linger

the terrain is bare and bleak

and she doesn't know where she is

yet she knows what she goes to seek

.

.

tears trickle down a weather worn face

as she trudges through

running yet another painful race

not living, just barely existing

all she knows is shes going on

.

.

She thinks what shes doing

will take her far away

from everything she used to love

unyet she'll never go far enough

to blot out the memories

and the pain they cause

of a family she decided to leave

.

.

She still blundering on

with a spark of hope in her heart

but the truth is she lost her real map long ago

one lonely set of foot prints

leading a trail through untread territory

.

.

You see people everyday. But you don't know what they're like. Sometimes I wish I could become that person for a day. Or become one of their family, or closest friends just to see who they really are. Some of them are so much themselves you don't even wonder about them until you talk to them for a while and learn about them, their lifestlyes and their favourite things to do.

.

.

.

.

Some of them their history is all that makes everything different. Some of them wish they'd never done things like that. Some haven't seen they're wrong yet. Some of them know but don't want to acknowledge it. Some of them don't want to admit it.

.

.

Some are so stubborn it just makes me want to throttle them. I guess then I'd be throttling myself though.