Perchance A Chance Poem by eve Taylor

Like the simple breeze,

blowing over her shoulder,

refreshing and cool,

with eyes closed,

she sighs,

a new distraction,

yes,

maybe,

maybe that's what,

she somehow needs,

she could be wrong,

but hey,

isn't that what,

life is really about?

After all,

if one is simply,

sitting,

barely breathing.

Is that really living?

Leaving nothing,

up to chance.

All while,

drowning,

in a sea,

of what will,

never be.

Maybe she needs,

to open herself up.

Take one more chance,

to let herself,

feel that need,

to softly bleed.