It's your voice,
that calls me from the brink,
When the world,
becomes far too bleak.
A head on collision,
more than I can take.
the madness calls,
as I begin to break.
Whisper softly,
as the picture begins to shake.
Call me home.
Please just help me wake.
* this might be one of my favorites yet. What do you think?
YOU ARE READING
Speaking to Lost Souls
PoetryA collection of thoughts and emotion. Forgive me. I have a poet's soul, but not a poet's pen.
