Flaming Anguish
Stomach turning,
Spinning into a whirlpool of shame.
Oil flows from the surroundings,
The embarrassment takes that fuel
And ignites a flame of burning pain
Inflaming my flesh in a curious rage.
Questioning why it’s this way?
The present tense
But it cuts the strings from the past.
Serpentine like coils,
Begin a strangulation that lasts.
A binding that cuts worse than,
Broken ropes made of glass
To breathe is to leave all that is glad.
Happens to the best of us they say.
Subtracting life from the rest of us?
A division caused by the ego’s need to be restless.
The difference elopes with Hope and faith.
And cut the ropes that choke,
The soul’s breath away.
Breathe.
A way to not just cope with the pain,
That will all seem so strange.
A way that is the way
Which leads to true change.