It Festers, Feeds, and GripsA Poem by Faren
It festers in the far reaches of my mind
A singular thought so foreign I cannot say that it is mine I push it away as if a small bug constantly buzzing I will not I cannot There is no way It feeds off of hate. Hate, frustration, and desire A singular feeling of despair I cannot shake I contemplate the idea before realizing my weakness I don’t think I will What would I say No, I will not It grips me in the middle of the night A singular desperation I cannot control I hold on wishing for it to let go I won't I know I won't What if I did © 2016 Faren |
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Added on November 15, 2016 Last Updated on November 15, 2016 Author
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