Imagine a wanderer
Walking through the lands
On his own
Just a staff for company
And a load of rocks
on his back.
Why rocks you say?
Well they are his secrets
Dirty little secrets
Each don't weigh much
But when accumulated
They drag him down.
Small and sharp,
They cut into his skin
Scars self afflicted
Yet he bears all
And walks through the land.
Till one day, he meets
a girl walking
With a sackful of rocks on her back.
Blood dripping down her back
Drop by drop
Yet she shoulders them all
And walks with a smile.
So, the question remains.
Will they walk together hand in hand
With rocks on their back
Together they will withstand.
Or each will walk his lonely path
of shame and suffering
of eternal wandering
till perhaps they meet again.
