I feel like a beaten dog.
My heart is used up.
My braid is fried and worn out.
I cut my soul out long ago and the shadows of the damage are starting to cascade over me.
My hands are frail and broke.
My legs wish for nothing but to give out.
I have no energy to keep the forward motion this life demands for mere survival.
I give up.
-
Author:
Noah (
Offline) - Published: November 21st, 2019 15:58
- Comment from author about the poem: The Rock's Bottom can be dug through
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.