A visage pinched and worn
From wishes never born
A missive left to mourn
Beneath the shadows of our hesitation

With fingers bent and bruised
And confidence confused
For opulence ensues
The ending cost of staunch determination

A reputation stained
For theories thought profane
Is it boon or bane
The offering of one’s own innovation?

A path with many roads
Distracted as it grows
To where, we’ll never know
While traveling a map of reservation


2 thoughts on “Reservation

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