Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2019
There is always a time,
Where my heart begins to clear,
My weary lungs,
Cry in relief.

My head still may ache,
For it has been dragged so raw,
My lips may finally rise,
For my cheeks to peacefully rest upon.

At last my soul may relax,
Panic slowly drifting,
Off my shaky silhouette.
Written by
renae  F/Minnesota
     Bogdan Dragos and ranveer joshua
Please log in to view and add comments on poems