Irritant

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: November 07, 2012

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Submitted: November 07, 2012

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I dare to grasp the concept of happiness and pride while my heart rejects its antibody with a flare of contempt and fear.
Fear eating at what ever suspense of enlightenment I've never known, smothered in cold hands full of darkness and detachment.
I have yet to bite the hand that feeds yet I grow greedy in starvation, wondering why, why do I have the privilege to be struck down desolate, yet grim.
I wake before sunrise insinuates itself with repulsive rays, pledging to my heart with the lack of assurance to hold comfortingly.
Boiling with resentment to wake, only to wish to trade places with the graves of ones that decay to be here.
Leaving its lasting impression, only for the maggots to see and feed.
Questioning my existence I've found, sweet relevance.
Things feared have appeared, only to sulk barrenness, unforgivably mute, with no tears as credibility.
Pricks of irrational needles stab my heart again and again, yet held stationary.
To take a breath as a blubbering widow; forbidden.
To increase my indifference with a slight hence of increased endorphin's; futile.
 
What am I?


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