In a fit of rage, unbecoming me
I almost lost it all
Nearly revealing untidy truths
Things, which when hidden, befit us all
Alone in my torture
Wanting to tell everyone
Braying into emptied mineshafts
Shouting across forgotten divides
Afraid to tell a soul
Bittered because I can’t get your attention
I trembled with the fitful, tireless energy of youth
I grew to know my surroundings more comfortably
And hated them all the more because of it
I needed to release my guilt more than I needed to take my next

breath
Of course, I told no one.