deepundergroundpoetry.com
Heavy feather steps.
I tread lightly with a heavy heart.
Full to bursting with no release,
The lark that can't bring himself to sing.
No I'm not too far from the dark,
And I'm nowhere near my relief.
The pitch is closing in around me,
Vile and crude and far from sweet.
And I can only say, "If only".
Full to bursting with no release,
The lark that can't bring himself to sing.
No I'm not too far from the dark,
And I'm nowhere near my relief.
The pitch is closing in around me,
Vile and crude and far from sweet.
And I can only say, "If only".
Published 3rd Dec 2015
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