A poet doesn't lie,
       a poet omits
the suppressed thoughts and sensations
she will never forget
The painful memories she hopes to create,
       The ill-tempered words
       tied to strings of hate that
L o o p--
             a reoccurring
             pattern of
              maladjusted
             thinking

  A sense of dread churns in your gut,
writhing behind your chest cavity,
invading your consciousness,
shutting it down

       Perspiration begins,
and the rattling in your bones
Nausea sets in,
    reeling your blood
   It's happening again,
            this you know,
but time will not tell
when this attack will go

Your throat constricts
                   while time afflicts
everything you've kept inside--
the emotions you've kept alive
       when you should have set them free
captives of your debauchery
they've transformed into something ugly,
           the wretch of scorn and self-pity
and have unleashed their vengeance
for smothering them with poisons
       depriving them of breath,
and of their destiny

They're doing unto you,
what you did unto them,
       killing you tediously,
disrupting your mind with
   irrational fear
and depleting the dopamine
transmitted through your system
to plague you with indifference
towards reality
          The symptoms it carries
manipulate your thought-process,
restarting the l o o p--
                     a reoccurring
                     pattern of
                      maladjusted
                     thinking