It is essentially the worst thing I've ever felt
A deep, swirling miasma of an emotion.
It's nasty.

Abandonment doesn't suit me, I've never taken to it well.
This would be overcompensation.
Dark, infuriated overcompensation.

It's toddler-esque, I see that clearly, the feeling of
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, m i n e
I am ashamed.

And I can put it to rhyme, oh I can explain
It's a violent beast, a stake of claim
It's an unnoticed filth on my doorstep
It's a dormant disease, unseen while it rests.

But when it awakens, good lord, when it does
It gnaws at everything, leaves nothing untouched
It burns up the foundations, the walls, the floor
For imagined slights, and leaves me thinking what for?

It's an inferno. It's dark thoughts that demand attention.
I lie and say I am fighting it; I've already let it win.
It is white and unnerving, justified in it's own existence
It is a force of it's own that defies all reason.

And I could put it to rhyme if I truly wished to
But why would I when it rips right through
Every word I've ever attempted to use
To represent it as I wish to.