deepundergroundpoetry.com
Blisters: The Journey Begins
As I break ground
my hands form blisters
"Why are you hiding?
Just tell her you miss her"
With axe in hand I will turn solid earth to fissure
I'm human; all too human
Can I handle the pressure?
One...two...three... One...two...three...
I establish a rhythm
as I listen to the sound
of other men sinking
"She's moved on
You read her wrong"
or are those just excuse
to not carry on?
I've barely made a chip
but I'm proud of my reflection
I'll dig down deep....or slip
under the waves of depression
my hands form blisters
"Why are you hiding?
Just tell her you miss her"
With axe in hand I will turn solid earth to fissure
I'm human; all too human
Can I handle the pressure?
One...two...three... One...two...three...
I establish a rhythm
as I listen to the sound
of other men sinking
"She's moved on
You read her wrong"
or are those just excuse
to not carry on?
I've barely made a chip
but I'm proud of my reflection
I'll dig down deep....or slip
under the waves of depression
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