The Stricken
A Poem
Published in
Dec 14, 2022
The thing that eats our brain,
Finds comfort in our grief,
Seeks to infiltrate our deepest pain,
Pretends to want relief.
The worm has laid an egg,
The nest our memory,
And urges its larval child to beg,
As if it could be free.
The path it takes is loss,
As hope is worn away,
And daily becomes the greater boss,
A tyrant born to stay.
