I watched the bus drive down its route
With all kinds of fares on board;
Heading to some stop;
Each on a personal journey,
As important as any you've got.
The cord will pull,
The door will open
To let some traveller off,
As another steps into the bus.
On and on,
On and off,
They travel on their routes.

I used to ride a bus,
And I knew this way back then;
Then I forgot for far too long, that
I'm still journeying friends.

daydreams take us away
into far of worlds and other days
an immersive play within ones mind
full of many things they wish to find
journeys bring us far and wide
to see sights that are incredible
from sentient robots
to fire breathing dragons
there are no limits to what one can imagine

Incredulous
It seems
When you grew to
Connect with the
                               Spaces
                    You
                                Left
   ­                 Your
                                Prints
In
W­hile the others
Only left their memories.

hold on, wait, what, what similarities?

I sit in the group looking around, the grey plastic chair crushes my ******* spine as I cling to it for dear life.
the tutor comes to me last, two weeks in a row I don't get time to talk.
great, I'm already an outsider, now I don't get time to talk.

I listen as the group in the nicer, cosier and brighter room next door laugh and joke.
they are all young and pretty, a feeling of longing pulls me down like a giant magnet, why am I not in that group. have I not got the skills to be young and pretty anymore?

for almost one month now I despair.
how can I ever find my voice in this group there are all so strong, strong women.
this week she comes to me first, I speak, it doesn't help. can they even see me, understand my accent, it seems I'm more different than similar.

the next week I don't go, avoidance wins 1st place gold trophy as I sit alone in bed.
with other groups I'm so strong and proud, can I fake it next week, or maybe just conform and comply.

and so it goes on, am my question remains, what ****** similarities?

I can see where the forked road leads:

one path smooth and easy
it never leads to happiness
but maybe I could fool myself
into thinking your heart never made me
feel anything at all and
if I squeeze my eyes shut
and wish very hard
while I count the songs
of origami swans
or the rings of tree branches
like a boreal ribcage around the path
I'll wonder if the trees were happier rooted

the other road is treacherous
my heart shatters and breaks
in a million new ways
crossing shaky bridges
with hundred foot drops
and I don't come out unscathed
because there's no way to perform
heart surgery on yourself
some weeks I'm so scared
I'll bleed out entirely
others, I'll spend growing alone
uncomfortably
finding strength in myself
wondering why I didn't pick
the smooth road--
though it was never
a difficult decision to begin with