The World was never favored
And the sky was never bright -
Walking the line between dark
And morally grey -
the world sits waiting
In this space of in-between,
For everything that has been
Abandoned
In the abys of neglect,
To see what could have been born,
Had the strength of the sky
Not been so powerful.
The wind stilled a long time ago,
Along with the barbarous hope
Of a thousand eyes,
Strained at the deep grey
Of the never changing sky.
For now all we can to is stare
At the last whisp of hope -
The sky has to offer,
And find the will - and strength -
To keep hope alive,
In this never changing sky.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Deep
PoetryA collection of poetry I've written over the years dealing with my journey through depression and self-harm. It's a mental health journey. (Also, I've Updated the cover! Final Edition) Trigger warning: lots of my writing is a bit dark - deals wit...
