Gloom

I have borne this burden with a martyr’s crown,

worn its thorns with a fractured smile

and for a while I tarried there,

but now with patience paled and tether torn

I find that I no longer care.

I must differentiate twixt love and hate

and tis true that I could not love you more,

yet anger dominates  almost every passing thought,

lays heavy on this  tired bleeding heart

and now I find I wish you dead.

Selfless I was but now selfish (if but to survive),

yet selfishness perpetuates this growing hate,

a hatred of what my life has become

and the tears I cry are for me – not you,

and all I want is for you to die.

Forgive me my love for these selfish thoughts

and you do know that I could not love you more,

but I can’t ignore these feelings that proliferate,

recur with every passing hour,

or deny that for me to live you must surely die.

I am so sorry my handsome one.

Anna :o[

Victoria’s prompt at dVerse is that of writing a poem rich in verbs and above is my offering.

Tis true that of late, I have become entrenched in self-pity due to a series of events.   My handsome one’s condition is accelerating in pace and the future is a frightening concept – something I will have to deal with – but don’t want to.    Also PC problems have occurred – and are still occurring to a lesser degree   - as in intermittent or no connection.  I am heavily reliant on my PC for ‘companionship’ in my home life – it is a friend that talks back – and when there is no connection I am lost.  What is there to come home to?

I think I have overcome this phase, but nevertheless, even though the anger has subsided, my ‘effort’ would say that it has not completely?

Kind regards from the morbid one!

PS: I have no intention of killing my handsome one!

Image: courtesy of WikimediaCommons

Author: Mikhail Ivanovich Sapozhnikov (1871–1937)