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Close Call
June 26, 2010
No questions,
No answers.
Who was I to think,
that maybe I could be worthy?
That maybe I had a place in this world,
that wasn’t selling my soul.
But time has run short.
Can’t find myself,
Under the pressure,
of keeping everyone,
everything,
stable.
Careening out of control now,
I lost my grip on the steering wheel,
No.
Crash.
Burn.
Drown.
Float.
In shades of gray, I am cruising
Giving up,
Is too easy.
Too
Too
Easy.
© Maria B., Boston, MA
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