Trills of Cynicism
It’s occasional that some people show up, but in temporary measures, they eventually go. There were even times where nobody showed up through my travels, yet no one in the world would care about it, and I then never really thought much about it.
The times I’ve both wasted and spent through these pathways had grown my countless questions of what’s, shall’s, must’s, why’s, how’s, and if’s.
When my emotions had changed from mixtures of many things to abrupt doubtfulness or the simple philosophical questionable mind, moss had sometimes grown on the walls of the alleyways, as well as the varied flowers that had slightly sprouted out between the pavement’s cracks.
There were even times that it rained lightly or thundered distantly. Yet I still had remained, walking down the pavements.
The redirection and course changes while making choices and decisions through the alleyways had made the person and soul that I consume today.
Nothing was quite certain, which was what had led me to where I stand right now.
Down the cobbled-paved paths, I pass.
