When tomorrow promises hope for new
I'd rather just sit at home and do
My work for a bit
Then walk around and sit
In the sun just to get burned
It now seems the tides have turned
Against me as I sit in my chair
Wind puffs mess with my hair
As clouds cover the suns rays
I can't see through the blurry haze
When out of the mist
Comes a darkened fist
Battered, scarred and bruised by hate
YOU ARE READING
Poems From My Brain
PoetryWhenever I feel inspired I'll write something new and post it.
