Falling down eternity,
Stumbling with each step.
Going through life,
Without any planned breaths.
If the road bends left,
My body trips off it.
I'll pass out in a bedroom,
And wake up in a closet.
Tripping into lethality,
Wishing with each breath.
That my rough and tumble life,
Would end without request.
My sight ends at a tunnel,
In brief moments of clarity.
A figure resides within it,
A intriguing silhouette.
I never see am expression,
Of who it may really be.
I lose my foothold always,
Before I'm able to speak.
Tripping into eternity,
My life a tumbling mess.
I can't maintain a life,
Falling to my death.
YOU ARE READING
Who is He?
PoetryA look inside my tattered mind. All of these are original poems written by me in various moods of my life.
