I'm not really sure what this is,
but it's hitting me hard
on the chest, not even
heeding my cries.
Tearing me up,
this one little feeling,
one little doubt
in the back of my mind.
The tiny little question
in the back of my head
is fiery, it makes me cringe
out of fear.
Growing, I slowly start to pace
from corner to corner of
my small room, staring
blankly at each wall.
I can't take this anymore.
Your questions are killing
every little part of me,
You've found a way into
every little crevice
until
finally,
I'm unable to stand without
you filling my empty areas,
I'm reliant on another source
of energy, but all you do is
suck it out of me.
This question,
the one in my mind,
is nagging - biting away
at my very conscience;
if I don't answer it I will be
consumed wholly,
but no answer comes to mind.
I'm left in a cycle of unanswered questions.
You keep asking me,
I still have no response.
Again, it kills me slowly,
but you -
oh, despicable you -
still sit on the top shelf
of my mind's inventory,
pointing, laughing,
mocking my pain.
Despicable you.

