• theemopoet 5w

    Of cowards and weaklings, to a world we belong
    Those who know not the consequences, of what they would leave behind
    For they live in a sphere of selfishness, boasting selfless ways
    Allowing the chaos to settle in, sinking to the depths of their being
    Like a turtle that hides inside its shell, what none can fathom
    Not even themselves, from whom they hide
    Trying to figure a way out, of the awfulness that they embrace
    Hoping to get a break, or in a new place a fresh start
    Somewhere far away from home, where strangers they can be
    Burning down bridges that go back, only if it were an easy task
    A new struggle to wiggle out once again, like a worm in hole it made
    To be picked by a bird, the only way to fly
    Over the dull clouds of rain, reaching for the warmth of the sun