44. Two Roads [100 poems challenge]

44.          Two Roads

There’s mud and grime from my toes to knees,
Arms are scratched and my trousers torn
My hand is sore from the stings of bees,
Last place I stopped was rife with fleas
And now I just wish I wasn’t born.

My blistered heels are a bloody mess,
Ribs are bruised where I slipped and fell,
And where I am is anyone’s guess
(I may be lost, I must confess)
I’m stuck here in my own private hell.

The GPS fell and smashed its screen,
Gusting winds blew my map away;
Was hit by branches I hadn’t seen,
I am afraid I’ll get gangrene,
And I’ve not had food for half a day.

I’ve wandered wearily all alone
Up steep hills and then down the dales,
The battery died in my mobile phone
I now complain with whinging tone,
And list this with all my epic fails.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in the wood and I
I took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference.

5 June 2013

Comments: For the blatant theft of the last stanza I offer my apologies to Robert Frost, whose meter, it must be said, is rather unpredictable and therefore difficult to mimic.

Themes to come: 45. Illusion; 46. Family; 47. Creation; 48. Childhood; 49. Stripes

Explanation about the 100 poems challenge here.