my complains can fill a well
my sorrows fill the steep
that lives within shallow waters
i feel a barbwire
hanging around my neck
One sly move and I'll get cut out
What do I do
What do I say
When I say
too little and too much
Who do I trust
If I can't tell the difference
between a friend or foe
I want to get out
Of these complications I have on my back
Someone take these knives out of my back
Im loosing myself
With one more argument
- speaking too much
YOU ARE READING
surviving the storm
PoésieA collection of poems meant to soothe and release the pain from the rainy days
