Old stories, weary bones

Old stories and

weary bones 

hanging off 

my soul. 

They weigh me 

down and

slow my 

pace on this 

arduously spiny 

trek towards 

Truth.

I am myself 

and I am not. 

I am me 

and the shadows 

I create. 

Those beings 

that creep 

behind me, 

that stalk.

Catching me up

on this sagging

trail I drag 

my feet along.

Those dark shadows 

will someday blank me

once they solve 

the puzzle of

my footsteps

now meandering 

and uncertain

of the choices 

I made.

The yeses

and nos

and maybes

that got me 

struggling

down this 

weary road.

Where old stories 

lie down and die

and weary bones 

join the descent.