Guilt. Ever festering, it grows. It never lets you go.

It is fathoms deep, and ever creeps,

Like canyon rivers running slow.



Guilt erodes the sanity, the gently shifting sands.

It drives away the empathy, the union of two hands.

Softly speaking, to your heart, it finds your weakest moment.

And presses firmly, hard and sharp, to end the reason for it.