By J.R.
Will this confusion ever name itself?
Will it ever be given a face?
No. I think not.
Stumbling blindly through fields of broken glass
Would be a fate more generous than this.
An invisible hand lashes blows across my brow
As I raise my arms in surrender
Preparing to give up the ghost
I cry out
My head hurts
My heart aches
My stomach churns around and around
A boiling cauldron of doubt and fear
Why must this be so hard?
Will it ever go away?
Leave.
Yet still.
Still I know
Through these trials and tribulations
Your good works and words are never erased
Ever.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment