Lolz at me thinking I can write poetry.
Withered and resigned, you retire for the day.
Burrowing into the safeness of your home.
Time for reflection is not required,
for apprehension keeps near.
You sink into sleep, your mind far too troubled to keep abuzz.
Though your body has been keen on repose,
you find yourself just as tiresome as before.
The weight of guiltiness has yet to cease.
Frustration a constant burden at your side,
you make your way through the day,
simply shoving away any matter that requires your attention.
You continue to harm,
doing so knowingly, never afraid of repercussions.
For what can they take from you that you are unable to replace with ease?
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