These happenings do not warn you
You have no idea they are coming
Until your shoes are melted rubber
And your hair is standing on end
A poem of a series
A message sent at dawn
A glance without fire
No warning, just a pit
With every lightning strike
It yawns wider
Despair calls and beckons
Sweetly, it promises salvation
All it requires is surrender
But I have been fighting it so long
I have forgotten how to do otherwise
I know this is the best way
But i feel tired sometimes
So tired
Sometimes I wonder, if I knew how,
Would I walk into the abyss?
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