Pour salt in my wounds,
consume me with doubt,
shout at the ceiling,
only lets me so high,
reeling and raw,
as try to get by.
Wanton and woeful,
wearied undone,
only a thread,
but coming unspun.
Fighting this feeling,
feeling I’ll cry,
tears welling up,
filling my eyes.
Ever and always,
almost, so close,
shame and deceit,
toward my soul now a ghost.
Hosting these problems,
till hate fills my whole.
Furious anger,
now loss of control.
Vengeful this longing,
turned hurtful withdrawal.
Seems loves always leaving,
once I’m finally enthralled.