Sink And Die
Poem By rebekah jones
Dreading the days of
desperation to leave.
Will it not stop?
Have I not been commendable?
Everyday of hurt, angerness,
mocks me. How do I endure
such acrimony? I loathe is place
to a ‘T’. It has become a nuisance.
I cannot bare it any longer.
Such anguish washes over me.
Tourment, depression, imperfection
fills my every breath. Suffocating me
for it’s pleasure. I cannot find release.
I assume it’s only bringing me to find that clouser.