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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Death · #1165889
What drives me to come home.
Coming Home.

Holding not a friendly hand;
Leaping out of faith.

Legs ensnared, held in place;
By hands which drowned before me.

A sadistic repitition:
Lucifer, I am coming home.

I took the plunge.
© Copyright 2006 Cassidy Brown (ladyxinxblue at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1165889-Coming-Home