Perhaps this too, is real.
Maybe it is hard to believe
That these cold, foggy mornings
Of self-doubt and fear,
Really exist.
Maybe it is hard to hold on
To slippery hands
With slippery hands.
Mute voices of silence surround
Your screaming deaf echoes
And your mind whirls.
You cannot escape from
The web of deceit
That left you frozen
And still,
Like dewfall, lost
On a stormy night.
Perhaps, this shall never pass;
Maybe because this too, is real.
1 comment:
Your work is beautiful.
I am going to subscribe to your posts.
I am participating in the A to Z challenge, and I am new to blogging.
I started just so that I could have a larger audience for my poetry.
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