Poetry- A Short Journey

For many days,

I walked along the same path.

In many ways,

I found ways to keep track,

Of conversations,

Of things left behind.

I don't think one really cares.

But I don't really mind.

For many days,

I found passages in foreign texts.

I was told not to read them,

For fear of what may come next.

Yet the words soothed my worry,

Made me more kind.

I obtained more patience,

But was caught from behind.

For many days,

I dwelled in one place.

I was afraid to call out, only made to hunt and chase.

And when I brought my prey back from the wild,

I was always hit with a radiant smile.

Someone was proud of me, on the other side.

I guess they knew I was enough,

So I didn't have to try.

But for many nights,

I questioned a lot.

Maybe it was some puzzle; or even some plot.

Maybe the latter was missing from the shelf,

Maybe I had come to lose myself.

But the story remained the same,

And I played the game.

Until, after a few days more,

I said goodnight,

And walked out of the store.