Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2020
It is a torture of sort. The uneasiness of where the road can lead to, with only a few things that we know and hold true.. we endlessly hold out, all of our lives, we hold a lantern into the thick dark fissure of life until something of habitual significance comes along…then, we linger, again, for an encore.
Lanna K
Written by
Lanna K  21/F
(21/F)   
671
   Lisapotamus
Please log in to view and add comments on poems