So many dark days, not even sure the number.
Just that light at the end of the tunnel, drawing me.
Weak times, I sit down....
I lean against the tunnel's edge.
Other times I snap back up and run, forward, onward.
Sometimes it smells moldy in here.
Suddenly, the end is right in front of me.
I almost slip and fall out without even stopping to notice.
I stop, look back... smile.
Looking into the light, tears.
The sun has come out to play again, and so have I.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 9:39 AM UTC
So many dark days, not even sure the number.
Just that light at the end of the tunnel, drawing me.
Weak times, I sit down....
I lean against the tunnel's edge.
Other times I snap back up and run, forward, onward.
Sometimes it smells moldy in here.
Suddenly, the end is right in front of me.
I almost slip and fall out without even stopping to notice.
I stop, look back... smile.
Looking into the light, tears.
The sun has come out to play again, and so have I.
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