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Poem

I'm the oldest, I'm the youngest, Either way I don't belong here. The path diverged and changed so fast, my body followed but my mind dwaddeled I can't remember following the long lines of people. Many were picked off the screams the only thing that kept me alert, and going. Traveling in herds is, scary, dangerous, and rough. Don't get attached, the lines drop lower every time.
    Peoples screams, crunching bone, blood bathed the dirt road. The sun and sky and all that was high seemed to laugh and say they were better and unable to die, for sky is infinite so was light. But us down low at the ground so common, we, we're dying, drowning in blood. 
    If only we could swim, or fly, maybe we too could get up high. But no the Path diverged splitting us again, from better, best, and further more. To reach the skies and heavens light, to be drug off the beaten blood bathed path. If only the screams hadn't kept me alert.

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