The Beast

This tortuous, mind-bending game is unbearable.
It seeps into my skin 
I wear it in a daily fashion.
Grasping at my skull 
Bleeding, crying, feeling 
Fueling this never-ending cycle.
When can I stop feeding this beast?
It's cyclical hunger daunts my days 
Demanding a sacrifice. 
Forever seeking to be free of this turmoil. 
I grasp at lights
Too dim for my bound eyes.
Just a shade too dark 
Sheathed in false vellum with superficial colloquies.


- Caroline Youngless 

05/21/2020
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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