Poison, it spreads
It infects the best of us
Its bitter taste remains
It stays in life forever

They shot me once with a poisoned dart,
They bound me down with the threads of life.
They left me there to live or die,
I, with no chance to thrive of strife.

So now I’m sick
Sick of this, sick of that
Sick of never being good enough
Sick of always being left behind

The poison has hit,
the poison has spread.
I’d rather die than live like this.


-89 words. May 2017.


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