Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trying to explain how I feel
Is like trying to hold water
In my bare and calloused hands
I want to find a forest, lay under sun
And let the moss grow over me

Wake me when the world is softer
And the air is not pungent
With decay and despair
Until then I will lay in the forest
By the brook, and my emotions
Can feed the trees.

— The End —