Anguish

A poem

Image by Jonathan Borba, via Unsplash

I built up
thick walls for my protection
and poked out small holes
to prod away at others.

I constructed a lifestyle
removed from all risk,
cocooned myself in so-called safety
but forgot to let the air in, to breathe.

I got everything I lusted after
just to take it all
for granted,
dying inside when it was all retracted
as if it wasn’t me who chose to discard it.

I was loved through my mistakes,
but made a point never to accept it,
removing myself to a wretched bubble,
an echo chamber of venomous hate.

I fuelled myself with anger
hatred in my blood,
my own Orlok’s curse,
a plague, pointing the finger at every external atom
citing you as the source
for all of my pains
when it was me who held them
so tightly to my chest.