I squashed these feelings,
They should be dead
As the bugs on my sill in the winter cold.
I cared for these thoughts,
Carefully picked apart and unpacked
Them in the presence of a professional.
Yet before me they stand,
Starved and skinny
Here again and hungry for blood.
Their jaws pry far open to eat
All that has grown and thrived
In my heart and my mind.
They will trample the garden,
Devour the fruit,
And plant their seeds.
The weeds will sprout and choke.
The flowers will whither,
Ivy will poison and blossom
Welts on my skin and mind
That ooze horrid thoughts, blister
Till they spread.
Quickly, I should find a cure
But I am tired, exhausted.
Why must I do this work again?
They're growing stronger.
Clawed hands swipe and take,
Shove bits of my garden down
With triumph cries and giggles.
I will have to chase them out,
Drive them forth with stake and flame
And replant the bulbs and shrubs,
Summon back the bees and sun.
I should be better. Should be happy.
But, I'm not.
About the Creator
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme