Lost Trek

The sand in my bruise
I woke up to excuse
Tripping off my face
I bled in my race.

The towers stood high
I only wanted to fly
The savour of the termination
Was never my determination.

It’s gruelling now
to tie the rope anyhow.
I’ll wait for my trek
to arrive to not break.

The wound will heal
and I’ll recover my zeal
I’ll beg of the natural satellite
for a second life’s delight.