Guilt

Guilt.

Tripping,

dancing,

singing,

prancing,

All.

Over.

Inside me.

Kissing my heart.

Squeezing my lungs.

Digging holes in my brain.

To create blood-stained shadows that leap in my eyes,

slither to the nooks of my soul,

and search out the corners of my mind

to blind my conscience.

My being trembles.

Trembles under its wieght.

And collapses.

Guilt has won?

Yes.

Yes it has.

It.

Always.

Does.