Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2019
Almost. Almost is the word that comes to mind
When I think about the final tests.
Almost over, almost done, almost there.
Almost nothing in my head, only air.

I’m so scared, I’m so scared,
Return to the place
Where life is a maze
And happiness might not be guaranteed.

Stress, stress, stress
Did you give them your address?
In the midst of all this mess
I am stressed about the deal with the devil.

Now, get out of my head.
Can’t you hear what I said?
As I lay in my bed,
You bring nothing but anxiety and tears.

Pain, hurt, ache
While your health is at stake,
And I see your arm shake
You insist that money doesn’t grow on trees.

And he sits, and he stands, and he now understands
That he’s widowed and she’s never coming back.
And he sits, and he stands, as he now understands
That most of his old friends are gone and he might be next in line.

And I write, and I sit, and I sit on my phone
As I wait for the night to come
And I stress, and I cry, and I understand why
People said life gets harder as we grow.
BellonasBride
Written by
BellonasBride  Ireland
(Ireland)   
160
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems