There was a crooked road

I once lazily did travel though life
unknowing, unexpectant of anything
foreign or thrown askew
as if my days were simply
answered arithmetic problems
upon a third grade board of slate
.

When out of the deepest azure,
to my chagrin the proverbial curve ball
was pitched into my line of sight
causing a bob and weave effect that forced
change to my effortless course; again.
Just one more tiresome, painful distraction
.

New plans are set, aiming at goals,
current avenues abandoned, wailing subsides
when it begins all over anew; the arcs of crap
Strolling is over, "life aint a picnic no more"
and it seems that each time I begin to know
where I'm headed, someone moves the ends.