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
Tried something different with the formatting. Feedback appreciated :}