A knot of hate sits and waits.
Inside the claws unfurl...
There is no escape from the powerful jaws.
NO, NO, you are stuck on a course of sorrow
Wishing that you will be able to witness tomorrow.
You wait and wait as it consumes you
This knot of hate. It is indeed,
Nothing near happiness,
But rather it's a contrite understanding
Of bitterness, this knot of hate.
It is a power.
A power in which it leaves some of us to cower.
We cower from ourselves, friends and family.
This knot of hate consumes, ruins, controls.
And now I resume my waiting,
My waiting for tomorrow, in hopes that maybe
A spoonful of delight will come take the place, the place, of this knot of hate...
This is my lousy attempt (or so I think) at writing a poem. I was just in the mood as always to write something and this happened to be the outcome one day.
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