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Jan 2013
And you just can't take ******* any of it because you know how much it hurt them.
The hurt in their eyes penetrates every part of your being
Until you feel torn apart;
Until you feel so gruesomely dismembered,
Your body parts strewn across their floor.
And they just stare at you with this sickening look of puzzlement.
And defeat.
And anguish,
As you writhe in an unearthly,
jolting, fidgeting manner.
Every piece of you wants to tear apart the world,
Shrivel up the remains in the fire,
Wait until the ashes disintegrate to nothing more
Than dust that can be stolen viciously by the wind
That chokes the very reeds beneath your feet.

And you feel their eyes.
Still feel their anguish,
Still feel every joint in their body ticking off everything you have done
Terribly wrong.
Everything you have ever done to them.
Every way that you hurt them.

And you feel that hurt stab you in the chest,
Bend up
And down
And twist
And wrench.
And it takes every **** muscle to breath -
To remain calm.
This is more of a rant-type prose-y poem-y thing...y. Realized this was about guilt too, so I just titled it More Guilt. Lol, I don't really do anything wrong, I am just the type of person to be extremely ******* myself and therefore blame myself for a lot of things, thus developing guilt.  The more and more I read it the more and more I think it's a little bit too dramatic, but this is honestly how I felt in that moment. Boy, it was awful.
SamBee
Written by
SamBee  Amherst, MA
(Amherst, MA)   
477
   Sir Able
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