Carrying

He carried me close like a submachine gun
protected me, respected me
and glorified me like the sun
I was the one
The one who could save him
from what he had become.
He was somebody worth saving,
ignorant and young.
He just didn’t understand how to love someone.
He held me close,
afraid I would run.

© By PollutedPoet

Advertisements

Acids

… and here I brood

congested thoughts; overwrought
nauseated by what I created

I hate who I have become

gorging anger to keep from swallowing regrets
choking on the force of hopelessness

I am furiously depressed

churning chunks of undissolved guilt
in ulcering acids of anxiety, sparring with society

I am emotionally dyspeptic
I hate who I’ve become

© By PollutedPoet

  • Top Posts

  • Top Rated