Should i try my hand with poetry?
Perhaps not, laying in bed with only excuses in my head.
Some part of me hopes i find relief in this.
Another only hopes relief finds me.
I do not stumble through these words , the voice in my head ever guiding.
Knowing what i do not, and that this life may yet be more.
It edges me foward, not by blade but by promise of hope.
That tomorrow may yet be a new day, and i might not find myself alone.