It’s hard for me to let down my guard when I don’t trust the things that you do,
but holding on to this burning rage will only produce a black goo.
This goo is my anger,
negativity and rage,
it’s my disappointment and sadness uncaged,
it grows as I feed it with broken-off spikes of my protective inner core,
I’m on red alert to protect from the hurt but the sirens are blaring and raw.
They feed directly off of this sombre sludge,
and holding on to this obstinate grudge,
will only inflate this amorphous void,
until all my weapons are fully deployed,
unable to fire as the triggers are stuck,
a victim of this malevolent muck,
I need to release it before it goes sentient,
I should be the one that I represent.
I do want to talk but I don’t want to yet,
time is a healer if lest we forget,
you’ve dented my defences and they need time to heal,
if I don’t give it time then I’m not sure how I’ll deal.
A few things are certain,
this has changed things a lot,
things won’t snap back to how they were,
and somethings may wither and rot,
but to give you a chance to talk is one thing I’ll do,
just don’t fuck it up again,
because it’ll all be on you.