The Path.

The path of the writer is not straight and narrow. It turns a million times, twists into dark unknowns. It is a terrifying road; exhilerating. I never know where I'll end up. One day I will be in the greenest of gardens, the next in the desolate cold. The path makes no sense. Sometimes I walk backwards. Sometimes I falls under. Yet somehow I keep walking. I never end up in the same place twice. I can never go back where I came. The journey has changed the girl who began it. She would not recognize herself now. Beware the goblins, they walk the edges, ready to tear you away. To pull a girl away from the path. They are bitter and jealous because they cannot go where she's going. I don't know where this path leads. Perhaps it has no destination. Perhaps the trek is the importance and what is learned within is the reward for itself. Some say there's a castle in the clouds, and maybe someday I'll reach it. But if I do not, if that's not where this leads, then I will not feel heartbreak. Because a trepid child took the steps, began the adventure, followed the path. And who'd of thought she'd have gotten this far.