Disconsolate Souls Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Disconsolate Souls
Running, always on edges, afraid, trying not to fall
over.
Inside cringing, holding on for dear life - why we
don't know.
Ever slipping, sliding into chasms of deep ebony,
mortified by many uncaring people, leaving
disconsolate souls to die alone within themselves.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: leaving,running
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8/28/2026 9:39:39 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
