Take my hand I'll follow you.
Where you go I will go too.
They say that, it'll start to hurt,
When we stray, from rodes of dirt.
So hold my hand, and grip it tight!
We won't follow the path tonight.
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741