Ice. Cold ice
I feel the needles stabbing me every where.
I try and push my way to the surface.
I can't find it.
I trash and turn.
The only thing I can see is green.
No rocks.
No hope.
I grab something.
I see slight hope.
The hope is gone along with the plant.
All hope lost.
I thrash once again.
All my power being drained out.
I see people.
I wave my arms.
I scream for help.
Hope.
I stand up against the current.
I see hope.
I see safety.
I make it to the rocks.
I climb up the rocks.
I'm on solid ground.
I look back and see the river.
The river that tried to claim my life.
I conquered the river.
I am beaten and bruised.
I am sore.
I survived. - R.T.
YOU ARE READING
Late night poems
PoetryThis a collection of poems that I have written. They will be about my brother and his death. My mental health. Everything.
