THE STORM
The past keeps hunting me
Just like a lion hunting for a prey
Even when I pray
My mistakes keep taunting me
Just like a movie
It keeps repeating in my mind.
It's my consciousness
Waking me up
To break jail free
From this metal prison
Starving my pleasures
Saying; no room for repeating patterns.
The future is certain
Sometimes I'm frightened
Many times I'm confident
There will always be fears
But courage is the antidote
No room for dulling.
To be righteous
Is to be conscious
Because awareness
Leads to actions
Actions bring outcome
None can survive without income
I pray I make it through the storm.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
