Life Is An Instigator
All of my fears and anxieties,
Enjoy to coax and haunt me.
I'll try to cry or sleep them away,
But it all seems to grow worse everyday.
And nothing can fix,
Life's annoying quirks.
All I can seem to do,
Is box my emotions in little crates.
When I fill them as high as they will go,
This eventually causes my top to blow.
Like Mount St. Helens,
I hurt others,
Just as much as I hurt myself.
Then I hate myself,
For hurting others,
Because I am unstable.
Then I cry ashes.
This is the only way I can clean my slate.
For you have to destroy something,
Before you can make it great.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Life Is An Instigator by Trystin Delay )
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