I am sickened
With a pit-of-your-stomach disease;
I will awaken one day,
To find that I’ve died in my sleep.

They call it
Being alone,
And without an inner home.

It hungers,
Day and night.
It craves brutality
And puts up a fight.

It’s pernicious in nature,
Refusing to keep a pawn.
It will draw the light right from you,
And it will steal your brighter dawn.

Be aware,
It’s infectious.
One day it will show the world
By consuming each of us.

Until that day,
My shell will bear the indicium;
I will roam the earth
With receptivity to a minimum.

May 16, 2011
10:34 pm
Brittany Rose


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