Maybe I shouldn’t, maybe I should.
I know I must and yet I mustn’t
For my own sanity, for my own sake.
I know I must, but then I won’t?
A step forward, no more behind.
Maybe he’ll come for me.
When I finally get the courage to leave his house.
Do I want that?
I’m not so sure…
Maybe he won’t though
Oh but he’s charming, the little voice whispers.
This little voice I’ve grown to loathe.
Yet it’s apart of my very being.
SHUT IT, my inner aggressive speaks.
But I have to admit, he is charming.
He’ll hold my hand and whisper of days of old.
Tublogginge
Hello peeps Welcome to my #ugblogweek.
This is the first of 7 posts and I pray I that I don’t flake out.
*Deep breath* sooo here goes nothing…..
I am not a poet…not at all. The last time I tried to write a poem it went something like;
corruption corruption corruption
why are you in our country!
It’s terrible I know, but in my defense I was ten