My soul and the soles on my feet are worn.
They crave substance and a pair of shoes to help keep them warm.
My shelter has sprung a leak and I'm feeling weak.
The pain keeps rushing back again. So tell me how do I begin again?
The rain puddles in my mind.
Come seeping out my eyes sometimes.
I see the rain puddles in your eyes.
Won't you tell me your struggle?
Rain puddles.
Grey skies.
Rain puddles in our eyes.
We all feel that cold dark rain.
They say anything is possible but not when the risk is too great.
Something worth it to you may be worthless for the next.
Are you sleepless like me or does your mind let you rest?
Each day I put forth my very best.
Maybe that's why I'm consumed in stress.
©budmac38
B