Detour

Years on the journey,
Only to arrive at this.
The fire is no longer burning,
The stars were a reach and a miss.

My gun is full of notches,
And my mind is traumatized.
Memories are only blotches,
Of an empty stare at the skies.

My future is obscured,
As the cars pass overhead.
My life has been detoured,
I would be better off dead.

One cold dark night,
When the reception was bad.
I thought maybe I might,
And a conception was had.

Continue aimlessly,
In this hell that I allowed.
Or fight ferociously,
For a life that is proud.

Hope my stomachs not queasy,
And I don’t have loose screws.
It will not be easy,
With only my life to lose.