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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1392561
Am reaching out.
Plenty I will say,
please let me stay.
I have no place to go,
I have no one to talk to.
I strive to achieve, less I receive,
If I come to you sick and tired,
will you care and offer me rest?
If I come to you hungry and filthy,
will you feed me or let me wash?
If I could only give, indeed than less.
I see no further future, only total darkness.
I have no one beside me, am all in a mess.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1392561-Empty-hands