High On Low Poem by Jessie Peter

</>i fell low.
Waiting for a glow that'll raise me...

I feel down.
used like a pawn in a game.
Yes! I've been bait by fate.

I feel like dust.
that sticks to the shoe, there a minute,
blown the next.

I feel dirty.
In the gutter, unable to filter my filth....

I feel run over.
Not a chance to escape,
not a glance given.

I say to myself,
'No time for self pity. Dont be a sissy! '

I get hit in the gut,
knocked out of breath.
Cant move a muscle without a hustle.
I law low because of the blow!

Will i ever stand up?
Will I live to tell the tale or will I die in vain?