Poetry

Bottled Up (#374)

Bottled up ready to explode,
From its acid, I begin to corrode,
Springing leaks of frustration and stress,
Escalating into what I foresee as a mess,
I get a pressure release once in a while,
But overall containment is a daily trial,
Sadly, I’ve learned to operate this way,
Because it gets worse every day,
If it’s getting any better, I really can’t see,
It’s too much like trying to climb a thorn-covered tree,
I’m doing my best to patch the leaks as I go along,
I’m doing my best to stay some semblance of strong,
Holding it all together takes tons of control,
I’m trying hard not to think of its eventual toll.

Any Thoughts?

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