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The Detour




The sign says turn left,
but yet I take the right
down a different road
I travel everyday and every night

I see other people along my path
Their happiness seems to abound
Yet every once in a while
I get the sudden urge to turn around.

There are signs warning, giving cations
Pressing forward we disregard everything seen
because at my young age I believe I know more
even though that sounds obscene.

Occasionally I see a glimpse of those who turned left.
Driving a different path than mine
There seems to be a glow about them
instead with us, we seem just fine.

More signs telling us to turn left
Some of us take the sign
But no, sadly not me,
For sometimes I am too stubborn in the mind.

I takes a shattering fear,
an earthquaking rumble,
to cause me to look up and notice I know not where I stand,
and that makes me tremble.

Where is the nearest place to turn around?
Return to stable land?
How do I do it, when all those who turned left
Know exactly where I chose to stand.

Then I see it. What I've been looking for.
The warning signs that were there all along
To keep me heading in the right direction
before I was too far gone.

You see, none of us can be gone for good,
Because no matter the detour we take,
intentional or not,
there is only so long, happiness we can fake.







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