Sick insect


It is there all the time, in my house, in my bed
The insect that runs around in my head.
It desperately tries to hide, I itch.
It’s eyes go wide, it’s antennas twitch.
It lurked unseen,
In the shadows of the obscene.

Then You came and turned on a light,
Bright, pure, consuming the night.
...In my black little mind
And now the cockroaches are all scratching to find,
The dark.

They scurry, they dig, they rip me apart.
Infested, maybe they will find the rot in my heart.

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