Sunday, April 26, 2009

Depression

Hole in the ground
Hollow sounds
No way out

When voice catches
On the nails of the past
Rusty and sharp

Everything old
Nothing new
You trapped in you

Trampled
By the light.

No comments:

After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...