The Snail (poetry)

Slowly dragging its unbearably heavy body to no specific location

Searching for a nonexistent goal 

"Home"

Searching in sorrow,

Unable to find its dream

Forever gazing all while entrapped within its own eternal torture

Scraping its sensitive tissue against the rough earth

Never resting

Now unable to withstand its own form, 

Beginning to wither and decay 

The truth was never found

The snail was home all along