Pitter, patter,
Skitter, scatter,
Drip, drop,
Flip, flop,
Endless running,
To no end I see,
To what end will I be?
Do I go or do I stay?
Or should I just run away?
In the opposite direction,
Down the mountain,
Into the sea,
Where I can drown in my misery,
A blood run river,
A blasted liver,
But here I am, back again,
Yet once more, racing in the rain,
But as I wipe my cheeks of its tears,
I suddenly feel my rising fears,
Envelop me in a deep, dark embrace,
In this sorrowful, bloody race.
YOU ARE READING
Jigsaw
PoetryThe wind may blow one way and the river the other. One may take you down a well trodden path, and the other, the less walked one. But both experiences tell a story, and together, they form a whole. Piece by piece, you fit the many stories together...
