Tuesday 3 November 2015


The turmoil
The more the thoughts roam,
The emotions find no home,
But to erupt in ferocious anger,
Churning violently like foam.
Bottled up in him,
Are conflicts playing like a film,
From decades left unspoken,
Pages of resentment in a huge ream.
He seeks to withdraw still,
From that adored to nil,
So much left broken,
There is none to tranquil.
If only there was to share,
Where talk might the burden spare,
Maybe he’ll be better prepared,
For his greatest fear.
Wasted and exhausted,
Not helped but bested,
By things beyond grasp,
It is being tested.

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