Lost

Woods, leading no where. 

Beauty in the field, destroyed by weeds. 

Circles and circles, round and around. 

 

I keep tracking through these woods. 

Feeling lost inside my soul. 

Where am I? 

I thought I was in the meadow of flowers ... 

but I am not there ...

and it doesn’t exist anymore. 

Only the field of weeds. 

 

They must’ve crept up on me  

Must’ve been growing faster and faster,

multiplying. 

And somehow they drove me 

back into these woods. 

But how couldn’t I have noticed? 

 

Now,

i am lost. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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