deepundergroundpoetry.com
Following the blind
There's a hint of desperation
Clinging in the air
Times are hard and
Hope is rare
Following the blind
Has never been my choice
Now I face the day
Without a voice
God, bring your judgement
Swift and quick
For I fear our direction
Is making me sick
Clinging in the air
Times are hard and
Hope is rare
Following the blind
Has never been my choice
Now I face the day
Without a voice
God, bring your judgement
Swift and quick
For I fear our direction
Is making me sick
Published 18th Jul 2020
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18th Jul 2020 2:26pm
18th Jul 2020 3:50pm
