Destiny
22 November, 2003
Author: Sara*
I see them there, the blade, the knife
Instruments to end my life
What is the point to be alive
When someone in my place could thrive
This torment now I could well end
Yet something calls me back again
I am a slave unto my life
Slave to its wills, eternal strife
I have a job not yet complete
Though the road falters at my feet
And though I would embrace this death
Life isn’t done with me quite yet
I must return now, from the abyss
Death will not yet give me its kiss
I must fulfill my destiny
And hope then, at last, I will be free
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Webster (4.250.21.251) -- Tuesday, November 9 2004, 10:33 pm This sounds very much like a symptom of depression, but with a happy ending. |
| dark3nstar (4.239.240.227) -- Thursday, April 14 2005, 02:05 am good poem ... its good to hear a poem with hope and willing to live their life to the end...keep writing if it helps |
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