Robert Lost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
Tried to follow Frost’s journey as far as I could.
Nah, f*** this, walking is terrible.
I stray off the paths
searching for something,
a little more bearable
I find a farmhouse and an old pesticide plane
At this point the road not taken by has gone down the drain
Steal the plane and now we fly
Through pink clouds and regretless skies
I jerk wide awake.. from my dreams,
And my pillows soften
my grounded screams.
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