Guilt

My guilt glows red

with markings of black

And though it tortures,

it satisfies me

 

                       My guilt is hot 

                       it burns

 

I close my guilt behind me

with the creeking of a white gate

and although it follows me...

         I feel fine

Author's Note

I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. It's about when I was smoking, I had a specific spot I'd sit at the back of my house. Tell me what you think.