by Miss Kim

Created on: July 25, 2008

The best is yet to come,
they say.
Like tone-deaf choirs
lying wildly.

Sinking, so slowly I'm sinking
down and out.
A painful case of quicksand
silently killing.

Redeem I must, I tell myself
so quietly.
I cannot wake the Dragon.
He holds me.

Walking on eggshells
religiously.
Cursing the past becomes me.
Cynical tirade.

Happiness; the bitter journey
that calms me.
Providing shelter from the rain;
Ever-falling.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down into the Dragon's mouth.

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