Poetry Bus Poem - Crooked Line

This week the wonderful Bug came to the rescue of a near driver-less bus, and did so with the great prompt of starting a poem with the words 'I am a crooked line'. 

I wish I could say that I wrote an equally great poem, but I'm afraid that is not the case, but I did write something, albeit in a rush this morning, sorry Bug.

For some wonderful bus rides from this great prompt, visit HERE

Crooked Line

I am a crooked line,

that splits and divides,

like veins that throb of an unknown kind.

There are times I am angry, afraid, or less sure,

and times I feel happy, brave and self-assured.

The way I can laugh like nothing else counts,

or cry so hard my heart just might bounce.

When I thought things would be straight,

they never could be,

because life has a habit of tricking you see.

Right from the start of that very first line,

there are twists and turns of an unknown kind.

You need to travel the path neither afraid nor confused.

It’s all about being crooked,

both happy and sad,

and running the line,

from beginning to end,

by grabbing on tight for the ride of your life,

as the crooked line’s truth,

is found in the fight.