A drowning man will clutch at a staw.
Haemorrhage, anything to stem the flow
Clutching to counter mistakes and flaws
Sinking at wits end tired of all the banks clawed
Still bleeding cannot stem the blood flow.
Just my luck,
for me misadventure is always set in store,
Stuck in a rut,
for me always the short straw.
Will the night never end?
Can I ever back the trend?
Won't God an angel send?
YOU ARE READING
NAVEL GAZING
PoetryNarrator is stuck in a world of regret and sorrow, get a glimpse of what swirl around in his head and his world view
