Not My Road

I’ve never been this sure before;
this is not my road.

I’ve walked on this road for more than a decade;
this is not my road.

I’ve been running on this road with my chin up high;
this is not my road.

I’ve been crawling on this road screwing up smiles out of nothing;
This is not my road.

Looking back at the road I’ve been on,
I see many pieces of memory twinkling like the ice that cover the twigs and
I smell the fragrance of wild flowers filling up the whole road;
this is not my road.

I throw more-than-a-decade road in a trash can
and pick up another road;
is this my road?

The final road I will dump;
would that my road?

If I throw away all the road I was on,
they all would not be my roads.

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