Poetry

Grain

It started off as a simple discomfort, a little hidden truth

It started as a little grain, buried beneath the rug with no escape

It’s funny how life has a way of making you doubt things,

Confidently wakening your being to the anxiety based on the lack of something as simple as trust

Yet the guilty party, unable forsee the shatter about to be birthed, keeps that grain nicely tucked in…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s