Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2016
and if I am allowed
might I say
it's becoming too much.
Every aching day,
I search for reasons to keep going
but my dear, you cannot see
the despair engulfing my soul.

It hurts.
Dear god, it hurts.

No thought not turned over;
no mistake not reprimanded a hundred
thousand godforsaken times.

It is all simply too much.

Written by
     Eden Quinn, Kaitlyn A Warnken and SPT
Please log in to view and add comments on poems