Friday, December 13, 2019
The knives have blunted,
When they are needed the most.
The road has become forests
On the day of our journey.
Where is luck when you need it most?
It will only let you hope in vain!
Desperate prayers are never answered,
The moment you are by the cliff.
What is wrong with our destinies?
Why are our times unknown?
I guess it might be better,
If we never find out at all.
Anyim Mobuchi Noble
Topic(s) of this poem: anxiety