This poem was inspired by Robert Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken."
Both roads, they misled, cloaked in the form of fate, as if one choice could somehow surpass the other. The leaves appeared pristine, but isn’t that the trick? Paths aren’t formed by feet, but by the burden of all we bear. So I chuckled and roamed through, crushing the underbrush that had the nerve to remain neutral. There, I saw nothing special in the middle, only my own shadow outstretched— proof enough that I was here.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.