anger penetrates a
mental atmosphere
as I lay face down
on a wrinkle
but, it is more
like a puddle of
incriminating self-doubt;
my senses are flooded
with a boiling sensation
like witch's brew
but not as tasty as
it might have been;
containment saves
the day after which
we discover that
only pity can be given
because we have
not be forgiven yet.
25Nov14
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