Gloom

Raining out and in my soul,
Falling where my slow steps go.
Sodden bits of thoughts still cling;
Never will my spirit sing.

Is this life? Then set me free.
Is this faith? I don’t believe.
The dreary wet of all these woes
Drives me downward to my foes.

Soon perhaps the pour will cease;
I could maybe find relief.
Till that time this weary tramp
Leads me further through the damp.

09.20.19

Author: Nathaniel West Clark

Aspiring Poet View all posts by Nathaniel West Clark