Sorrow holds hands with Anger
As they follow Fear into the unknown.
No one is aware
That Reason is missing
So they hurtle ahead
At the speed of impatience,
Cursing at the unfamiliar
And mistrusting any voice
That suggests a change of course.
“How did we get where we are?” Sorrow asks its partner.
And Anger, true to form, yells out “Shut up!”
“I know where I’m going!” It lies.
And Sorrow grows like the parasite it is.