I found out why the path was less traveled
It twists through briars and up steep hills;
When the track is not hard and flinty,
It snakes through boot sucking bogs.
The trees tangle dark thick
star-consuming branches overhead.
A cold and biting wind always blows
and at the end of the road no shelter just a precipice
above crashing surf and a cold uncaring moon.
There is no turning back.
But Oh! Look at all those stars.
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