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I have this guilt, but I don’t know why
brewing, searing, surly, filling my insides.
Welling up in blocked ducts that release from my eyes,
weakened I buckle, flop down, I cry.

I feel guilty and I don’t know why
Maybe from the promises that someone made me,
one eve, two rings that were never set free;
Or mishaps from a yes, increased stress,
what a mess that became to be.

Perhaps for living, eyes wide shut
Cursed with pride, to blind to see
Seeking for ways to liberate me
The thoughts of never…
No, whatever, that, couldn’t possibly be.

Cull this guilt, you bastard guilt

Overtaken with refute
Confounded in ties
Hidden in lines
Consumed with why’s
Perhaps the feelings that arise are mine to co-sign,
accept, claim and then, let die.

© N.N.Williams 2012, all rights reserved.

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