A lake
Running deep
A line stretched
To its core.
What is it that makes me so
Unsure?
A hand
In a trembling fit
Reaches towards a heaven,
May I be free forevermore.
A threatening warmth in my centre
Drowns my soul,
Permanently stuck in a winter
It’s futile to wait
For the passing of the cold
So I am stuck
In my own
Quicksand.
Stuck
Unable to understand
The magnitude of it all
And so I fall
And a certain numbness takes over me,
A certain bewilderment
Because I have been seized and
I do not see.
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
A lake
Running deep
A line stretched
To its core.
What is it that makes me so
Unsure?
A hand
In a trembling fit
Reaches towards a heaven,
May I be free forevermore.
A threatening warmth in my centre
Drowns my soul,
Permanently stuck in a winter
It’s futile to wait
For the passing of the cold
So I am stuck
In my own
Quicksand.
Stuck
Unable to understand
The magnitude of it all
And so I fall
And a certain numbness takes over me,
A certain bewilderment
Because I have been seized and
I do not see.
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