Festering

Festering


A gathering storm of the body, mind and soul.
What I didn’t realise at the time is that it would eventually swallow me whole.

No-one ever talks about their problems and no-one wants to know.
So you fasten your mouth shut to guarantee that sooner or later you blow.

It works for a while, before even silly little pests begin to provoke,
That thing held inside, so warped, now alive, clawing its way up your throat.

Soon deep breaths won’t keep your lungs quiet and you’re hollering insults before you can comprehend,
That you’re never going to get anywhere, - not when calm, certainly not when mad - it’s all just means to another end.

Spewing accusations, pointing fingers, though scarcely coherent,
With an added dose of desperation all too easy to misinterpret as courage.

Naturally, everyone turns on you,
And part of you knows, you deserve it, too.

Not only have you gone and made it all worse,
But you start to question your own self-worth.

Who was that person saying those terrible things?
It’s the truth that you’re no better that really stings.

You caution your future self,
Tell them it was stupid.

Haven’t you learnt anything?
Nothing’s changed, you’re not gonna win.

“Next time please be reasonable."
''Okay“, *shrugs* but it’s going to be darn near impossible."