The Cost of The Composition

It appears your world was too harsh,
To survive you were compelled to make a new one.
Being not God, there was no magic clay at your disposal,
No divine air to push into that dirt.
You did the only thing you knew;
You told yourself a new story,
One that made sense.

I watched as you constructed that fence,
To survive I was compelled to try to bring it down.
Being not God, I am astounded to have seen your careful path,
To a place where only you could go,
A place where only you would be.
I assumed you would be lonely.
I miss you so!

Copyright 2016. L.L. Shelton.