Dispense

There’s a blockage; there’s a pain

It holds a secret which is bitter

And keeps growing, but does burst never

– – –

The words unsaid did cause the ache;

Held up reasons made it seem but sane

And many seasons watched as they passed

– – –

And it passed the pile of dreams;

Then made its way to all that seemed

As the right things which felt wrong

– – – 

This irreversible tale of regret

Was the outcome of putrid doubt;

It did revolt and left a pout so sour

 – – –

The pain was gone; but the hurt was not

The ache was gone but come tomorrow;

A day of hope where there was no sorrow

2 thoughts on “Dispense

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