Your words are a poison in my mind,
A virus that infects and binds.
A darkness that shrouds my every thought,
A suffocating grip that cannot be fought.
You are the death of my consciousness,
A black hole that swallows my progress.
Your presence lingers like a disease,
A cancer that spreads with intentional ease.
You are the storm that brews in my soul,
A lightning strike that never grows old.
Your venomous words are a deadly strike,
A sword that cuts with a malicious delight.
You are the abyss that pulls me under,
A weight that drags me asunder.
Your anger is a flame that never dies,
A blaze that consumes with a fiery guise.
You are the death of my consciousness,
A predator that preys with a viciousness.
But I will rise above your scorn,
And from your grip, I shall be reborn.
©jamielong
J