When my hands were raised
in hope of help
from the tears that were drowning me,
you never came.
And when I gave up
and let the cold wrap me,
you heard the echo of my cries.
but I'm afraid,
It's too late.
YOU ARE READING
Lacuna
Poetry~~ Lacuna (n.) a blank space,or a missing part. ~~ Collection of poems written by a soul that lost itself while looking for something it never had.
Too Late
When my hands were raised
in hope of help
from the tears that were drowning me,
you never came.
And when I gave up
and let the cold wrap me,
you heard the echo of my cries.
but I'm afraid,
It's too late.
