Cascade upon the mountainside
Descend on every thought I’ve had
Things look better within the light
Trickle down through the puny cracks
The sun waning from the sky
Paint us with every emotion
In strokes between two and twenty
Is this life or ascendancy?
Forge your own path through the clouds
And your own method, scream aloud
Perhaps you would, had you the sound
Realization: words mean nothing
No single hope that screams can bring
The peak is miles away
We must press on still
Push beyond the fray
Press beyond the hill
Antagonists force us back
Protagonists egg us on
Disillusionment mars us
Keeping us from the climax
Where this play is going to end
Is only known to the gods
And the playwright who wrote it
Entertaining the would-be viewers
With our struggles and pains
Twists and turns within the plot
Much like the ones in the road
The peak grows ever nearer
Great winds of irony blow
Changing our direction
Sidetracked with a useless ploy
Finding not the ending
But only a wish for this to end
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Submission Name: The Play
