Darkness dread, my fear is fed
In the gothic gloom, squander
Feelings take a toll
expending them freely
leaves one with a dull ache
emptiness ensues with fretful thoughts
I'm not liked of this, I'm sure
spurned affections answer for me
Little lady, so bare
Cover your nakedness
a multitude of imperfections we see
needful redemption afflicted sorrow
Be it now or on the morrow
When you realize your folly
incessant chatter rankles my nerves
It's as if the bleak is giving a sermon
to which there is no penance for sin
Rated for Teens(13+)
Categories:
PoetryFret
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Summary:
about my anxiety...
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I can relate to this. Emptiness ensues fretful thoughts. So true.
thank you lovely Fia it’s just one of those high anxiety days you know?
Understood
it will be okay 💕
Fantastic, Brenda.
thank you graciously dearest Adagio 💕
my kind of fret, my kind of doom n gloom fear – terrific writing!
thank you graciously beautiful poetess 💕
Brilliantly penned, Brenda. A powerful read my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
thank you graciously dearest Damian I deeply appreciate you 💕