you put nails in the windows
and bells on the doors;
trying to stop me from running
but I couldn't take any more
--
kept runningrunning
though it is always tempting;
a mouse to its trap
--
I sneak out my window
with the holes on the sides
where nails were unbolted,
but I fought the tides.
with my feet on the ground
and my head in the sky
is it a wonder to you
how I ever got so high?
YOU ARE READING
chasm
Poetrysometimes things happen and the only way to cope is with ink and a page. just a story of assorted thoughts, directly out of my journal.
