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Of Irritation - NaPoWriMo 7
When I hate,
it drowns me.
To the pointed point
where only irritation remains
seeking the death of the day
blind to the light.
Eager to cut
to
the quick,
and frustratingly slow
in cooling off to calmness.
Each pulse of fury
feeds the loop
a hang noose of hatred
angrily gripped around
my neck,
suffocating in its sincerity.
Frankly
Damn it all
I cannot care for hatred;
too basic for my tastes
But still it feeds on me.
it drowns me.
To the pointed point
where only irritation remains
seeking the death of the day
blind to the light.
Eager to cut
to
the quick,
and frustratingly slow
in cooling off to calmness.
Each pulse of fury
feeds the loop
a hang noose of hatred
angrily gripped around
my neck,
suffocating in its sincerity.
Frankly
Damn it all
I cannot care for hatred;
too basic for my tastes
But still it feeds on me.
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