Helping handThe clock ticks ominouslyDulling my senses.I see the bright blueNails of mine, slide across the pages.This hand never seems to stop writingWhile my body is fighting;a battle that has yet to be wonthis is my new song;that echoes in my heartsaying, 'don't give up, carry on'.Someone keeps telling meTo just carry on flowing;through this stinking systemWhen all i need is wisdom.As the water is flowing fast out of the spoutI can't seem to put it out;like a candle, that's vastly meltingIn to a miserable puddle of 'self doubting'.
Sta.sh
