poetry, Writing

Cowboys

There was a path worn through the brush to one side
Beaten and torn, pummeled and abused

A gateway to 
this other world

An open place

Go on in


I felt the need
To step inside
To feel the things
That they did see and
To be the things that I've always wished to be
On lonely nights



It was disappointing to find
That my dreams 
Were not what
I wanted them to be	
Were in fact very different
From anything I had ever wanted 
From that which I call the world
This thing I think of as living
And the life I have made

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