Survival


I have to grow a skin that’s tough
On feet to walk through shattered glass,
On hands to grab all I can reach,
On back not to fear any stab.
That's how life works
And it won't change.

Once I’ll deserve my rest in peace
Clanking I’ll subside into grave,
Very tough sack of broken bones.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem