Midnight oil

Sometimes nights 

Are like dark ink 

And my mind is a paper notebook.

My pen edges on a cliff 

Hanging on by a thread of words

That struggle to save me.

But I enjoy the rush.

Long journey

I swear

That long hair is a symbol of a long journey 

But heavy is the crown that is worn

When all I want is to feel light

Perhaps it's better to

Shorten my locs 

To cut every strand from the fertile scalp

That nourishes them

So that the weight of my journey 

Does not hinder my footsteps 

Intended to keep up the pace

Of a vivacious yet a hauntingly unknown path.