Forwards

Forwards

 

Looking up

I think of water,

not a drop

to drink,

yet filling

my every glass.

 

And in foolish reflections,

I've gone and done it

to myself,

again.

 

Walking forwards

when it is

painfully obvious,

that others

ant me back.

 

But in the evening

I sleep on

soft sheets,

willing to let in

the rain,

and the enormous

feelings of guilt.

 

The knowing

soon forgotten.

 

It's just one mort thing

that I've become.

Reviews

[StoryTailor]

This is a very beautifully written piece. It makes me think, so I commend you for that. Good Job.