Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
I drive down the winding road just to find its a dead end, get out and start walking, come to a cliff, toes on the edge close your eyes, Feel the wind in your hair, turn around and fall, fall into the straight and strong into the nothingness below and remember each day is not going to be the same as the last. Some things are meant to be forgotten.
Brianna
Written by
Brianna
369
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems