this guilt inside

This guilt rattles inside my bones,
Reminding me of what I am,
Who I claim to be
In the worst possible ways,
Throwing it back,
Because I let it,
And I hate myself for it,
Healed and scarred,
I manage to make the best,
Or that’s what I pretend,
Because only the ones with weak hearts fall victim to the sin,
Or maybe the sin grows strong enough to control,
Until in consumes every part of you,
Of me,
But, I can’t dwell on the ache, the feeling of wrongness in my bones,
Because all I can see is your face,
And the pain of this sin that I carry for us.

4 thoughts on “this guilt inside

  1. Five says:

    Expressive! As is all your stuff. I see why you liked my poem “Not Guilt” on piecesoffive.uk – I’m going to post a second part of “If we don’t live in a blame-free world, whose fault is that?” Your line “reminding me of what I am” – what you did is not what you ARE! Your regret about it now is more likely what you deeply are.
    And isn’t it odd how we can “hate myself”? Are there two of us, one hating the other? I hope you see the delusion here, I would love to find your heart becoming less troubled and calmer. Your poetry would not suffer I’m sure – a writer always has soul, however much they suffer. “Suffering is optional” – beauty always reveals itself. Keep writing, I’m following.

    Liked by 1 person

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