Steps

The first we take,
with our tiny hands in those larger then ours.

We learn to walk on our own,
cry,
scream,
and be alone.

Step by step we carry-on.

Barefoot and splintered.

Bleeding,
broken,
crying.

Each step a lesson,
some harsher then the last.
Has this come to it's last steps?

Im tired of walking alone,
bloody and broken

I want the hand wrapped around mine.
The caring in his voice that will mean everything.

I cant take another step....
I know I'll need to plunge....

Musings of a girl ready to say goodbye. (Cuz i never forget you)