The GRAVE
March 28, 2012I toil for self approval,
And work for bitter praise.
Digging down into the
darkness,
Of a slowly growing grave.
My bloody hands lie broken,
And my shovel scrapes on
stone,
Until the hole that I´ve been feeding,
Is the only thing I own.
I stand, alone and empty,
And lose all hope within,
I´ll keep digging to the bottom,
Until they throw the dirt back in.
Posted by Lawrence Corpuz. Posted In : Poem