From bed rising, you sit staring into,
Willing answers, from your ring stained coffee mug.
Winter granite eyes, lifeless drooping mouth,
Shoulders fallen in defeat, and that hand;
Shaking, always shaking. Catching the
Attention of everyone except you.
Finally, a drama loaded question:
Hope?
Is there any for us?
I think you already know.
Or why would you ask?
Should I decide for you, us?
Dictate our path??
Am I honest,
or kind,
Or both?
Your questions cannot be answered
In terms of black and white.
Our feelings aren't categorized
By wrong or right.
How about.....maybe?
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 8:43pm on Nov 18, 2024 via server WEBX1.