It's in your system
and you can feel it.
Lurking and knowning,
words are so bound.
Telling would be ruining,
wasting and losing.
Holding would be suicide,
painful and destructing.
Around and about,
it hangs over your head.
Pressing you down,
yet holding you high.
Wishing to let go;
yet being forced back.
Wouldn't want it to be,
a overloaded atack.
It's lurking inside,
and you can't express it.
Screaming inside you,
yet you cant forfill it.
Holding it quietly,
or telling and losing.
Painful, destructing.
Wastefull or maybe combining.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Great
Battling inner demons is never an easy task and this poem decribes the torment very well
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