Its Cold
It's cold.
Empty.
Pitch black.
Lonely.
I hate it here.
In this valley of the dark.
It makes me wonder who I am.
Where I fit in.
But I don't fit in.
Anywhere.
So here it is I stay.
Darkness.
Sadness..
I'm here again.
Why always here?
But then I notice something bright.
A hand.
Glowing white,
reaching out,
almost....
smiling.
I grab it.
I'm lifted out of the dark room,
into a world of light and colour.
I see who the hand belongs to.
I am no longer in darkness.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Its Cold, which
was posted on Oct 19, 2011 by
Bli-Bli.
This is a solo poem.
About this poem
"Yeah, I don't even KNOW what this is."
This poem is filed under:
Abstract, Free Verse, Imagery
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