Pain
Conflicting thoughts in my head,
None escape; left unsaid.
It rips through my organs,
Like tree roots under tarmac,
It's anchored down deep,
forcing cracks on the surface.
Those opportunistic storms,
Further weaken defences,
Cracks widen, highways crumble,
From the core, I implode.
Conflicting thoughts in my head
and more tears still to shed.
Copyright © Joanne Hayward | Year Posted 2016
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