Wednesday, February 18, 2015


I try not to dwell
but can't seem to quell
this negative tide
that's surging inside
and making me sink
with tendrils like ink
that keep pulling down
and soon I may drown
unless I can swim
against this dark whim
and get back to where
my lungs can breathe air.


Donna Smith said...

Hope this is just a poem. If not, you need a serious vacation in a warm a hurry!

rch said...