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The Gnawing

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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.

Disintegration.

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.

 

StPA