My feet ache, my chest burns with each breath—
And I feel like I’m wandering into my death.
I have no ball of twine, no way to guide
Myself into delight or demise.
If I turn the brightest way, it only leads
To wilted roses and rotting leaves.
If I turn the darkest, I can’t see
What rustles under the thorny vines.
Am I even going to escape alive?
I better not face him again,
The bull-headed man who lurks at the end;
There has to be a better way out
Than crawling over the hedges,
Than crawling over the edges
Of pleasure and pain.
But there’s no time to doubt
The last path I take.
About the Author
Chloe DeVos (she/her) is an emerging author, who has crafted numerous poems and stories throughout her youthful journey. Some of her poetry has been published in local journals, such as The Bluebird and Dahlia Zine. She has also published two short stories. Beyond the realm of writing, Chloe finds solace in the strokes of drawing, the pages of manga, leisurely strolls, and delving into the annals of history.
