deepundergroundpoetry.com
Deserted
I trip myself on hope
and fall on wishful thinking,
always hoping to find a well.
But the desert is always dry,
and the clouds are too small,
so the ocean is just another hell.
Indeed, I turn the hourglass,
with my head against the grain,
to avoid cutting a throat.
I watch all my steps,
losing my trail of freedom;
though always searching for hope.
and fall on wishful thinking,
always hoping to find a well.
But the desert is always dry,
and the clouds are too small,
so the ocean is just another hell.
Indeed, I turn the hourglass,
with my head against the grain,
to avoid cutting a throat.
I watch all my steps,
losing my trail of freedom;
though always searching for hope.
Published 11th Dec 2014
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