Being cold was not a choice,
It was an instinct, based on survival
As was the need for a voice
In this cold, dark world arrival.
You tell me to put on a brave face
And never realize, I am.
You never see that small trace
Of disappointment and damned.
Living this life of despair
Wasn't my lifelong choice
And though many a prayer is said
Fate does not rejoice.
Because I have the Devil on one shoulder
And Death on another
And this fight is a hard one
But my fight is not over.
YOU ARE READING
Darkest Days
PoetryThis is just a series of poems I've wrote. Some are rhyming, some are free-expression, and etc. Hope you enjoy.
