Cliffhanger
The cycle never ends.
Our side on the edge
is crumbling apart.
Step back,
step back.
We're too weak to attack.
Taking a sidetrack.
Heading to more gloom.
Close against the wall.
Trying not to fall.
Lying to ourselves.
Mystifying misspells.
There's a way out,
no different route.
There's an exit,
no exile.
But hope is worthwhile.
17:05 20/02/17
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YOU ARE READING
The Puppeteer's Playground
PoésieWhere the hands have taken over, the place we're calling home. Poems about what matters and what doesn't, to whoever and whatever. Poetry book ||| Cover by me
