this strain...

this strain...

A Poem by Winter

i write
with my hands shivering
this memory is not a keeper
but i heed to the creed before my fear
reoccurring
it is not once
but twice
this kind of strain
is a late wail
from my former failures
into my latest futures

a seizure,
promise me
you won't lift me up this time
don't drift it ashore this time




© 2018 Winter



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sometimes we have no choice,they just appear in our minds

Posted 9 Months Ago



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Added on January 10, 2018
Last Updated on January 10, 2018

Author

Winter
Winter

Portugal



Writing
end end

A Poem by Winter