my mind-tell me I'm safe.
Free me...hold my hand. The shake remains a shake and peace is not conceived.
I'm tired of walking into stone walls-dead ends of life.
Feel the ends of my life. It's plain to see I'm chasing me.
The bottom looms near. The death breath upon my face sends me deeper into myself.
I have self pity with little hope of change.
I cannot breathe freely into new life.
Another shovel full, please.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem