Blind
I don’t see the future any more, not in the way I used to. The certainty of it escapes me and the clarity I took for granted has turned foggy like a sad, grey morning when the heavy, weeping clouds hang low enough to touch.
So I stumble onwards...

Blind

I don’t see the future any more, not in the way I used to. The certainty of it escapes me and the clarity I took for granted has turned foggy like a sad, grey morning when the heavy, weeping clouds hang low enough to touch.

So I stumble onwards as if blindfolded, constantly unsure and afraid of falling; and yet I am too proud to stop.