The Touch

      The air is hard to breathe. Nights are too long and the days are too bright. It is hard to see the world as others

may. In my eyes we rush to nowhere. But there is a hand in mine that guides my way. With this touch, reassurance 

that all will be okay.

This poem is about: 
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741