I write about Stuff

 When you’re right down in it
You can see no way out
You can see only dark
Inky blackness seeping through
 
When you’re in the middle
Of a muggy treacle puddle
Hanging onto some hope
Is all you can manage
 
My fingernails cling to
A crumbling despair filled goo
I forget who I am
And who I belong to
 
He calls out – REMEMBER
Lean back, and hold on
Cling to me, precious daughter,
Cling to me.