Sitting on the edge
Of a cool swimming pool
Her feet submerged
Into the deep waters
It was like sitting on the edge
Of sanity and insanity
So close she could just dive in
Yet she could just walk away
Behind her a beautiful meadow
Representing life and hope
In front of her deep waters
Representing her every struggle and fear
One would think that
She could get up and walk
Toward the green pastures
And dwell in all its glory
But she is submerged knee-deep
Into a quicksand of fear
And waves of every struggle
That hold her in their grasp
All she can do is
Look back at the meadow
Or drown in the waves
Never allowed to move from the edge
YOU ARE READING
Chronicles Of Midnight
PoetryComposed of poetry and ideas and scenes from short stories that I probably wont write. A bunch of thoughts that might or might not make sense. #unorganized It gets better the further you read, so just keep reading or skip a few. Me.
