It's late.
Or early.
Still night.
But actually-
Morning.
And I'm-
Still here.
Thinking.
Wondering.
Wishing.
Crying.
Sobbing.
Silently.
Waiting-
For the sun-
To rise..
With a new day.
Because maybe-
That'll be..
My saving grace.
Because maybe-
That'll be..
Her saving grace.
A new day-
With endless-
Possibilities.
But-
I'm afraid.
Desperately-
Afraid.
And..
I know-
Why.
YOU ARE READING
The Words of a Person
PoetryMy words. Typed. As if- They could ever be called- Neat. *WARNING* Life is fucked up- So I guess I am too.