Sink And Die Poem by rebekah jones

Dreading the days of

uneasiness, aggravation,

desperation to leave.

Will it not stop?

Have I not been commendable?

Everyday of hurt, angerness,

mocks me. How do I endure

such acrimony? I loathe is place

to a ‘T’. It has become a nuisance.

I cannot bare it any longer.

Such anguish washes over me.

Tourment, depression, imperfection

fills my every breath. Suffocating me

for it’s pleasure. I cannot find release.

I assume it’s only bringing me to find that clouser.