The Gnawing



The Gnawing 

It’s there in the belly, it sits like a stone,

hard, heavy and dragging them down.

Gnawing in waves, tearing, grating, chewing,

Life imploding, no hope of renewing.

A breaking soul shattered to pieces,

like a mirror smashed by a rock, the light now ceases.


No going forward, nor even going back.

So continue to clutch that unpredictable track.

It’s over too soon, and yet all seems so far,

Such destinations are never reachable by car.

Blow upon blow, a mind in torture,

The heart rent sore, bent beyond rupture.

And still the Gnawing is there, the closest companion in the darkness.





22 thoughts on “The Gnawing

    • Hi Marlene and many thanks for your comment. It is lovely of you to connect again! You, quite accurately, picked up that there is a struggle going on in the poem and I am sorry that you have been through this sort of angst as it is painful and exhausting. I am okay, (thanks for asking and caring), yet there are times when this poem accurately portrays my inner most feelings. I also intended for it to refer to the deep anguish that others who have PTSD or other mental disorders might feel. Writing can often feels cathartic as for me it can release one’s mind for a short time, from the downward spiralling thoughts that crop up in troubling times.

      Liked by 2 people

      • Unfortunately it is something that I understand only too well. That’s why I write as well. I’m better at managing my thoughts now but the reaching out in our cryptic way may help others. That’s why I try to be more open than I’m comfortable with. Keep reaching out.

        Liked by 1 person

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