Fuel

Guilt is

killing

you isn’t it?

Hands wrapped around

your throat

beating floorboards and

damned spots

on your shaking

hands

 

Guilt is

feeding

you fueling

your years

counting down

the minutes

seconds

until your heart

explodes in your

chest and the truth

falls like embers.

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2 thoughts on “Fuel

  1. Really liked this – reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe’s work. I think that might have something to do with the “beating floorboards” bit!

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