Where did it come from,
I really don’t know,
A present from mother,
With darkness in tow,
A means to escape,
Or a means to abuse,
Why is it my life,
Is a quickly lit fuse.

I’ll go along fine,
For a moment or more,
Then out of the blue,
Comes a thundering roar,
I cannot make sense,
Of the feelings that rise,
All I know is the hatred,
That beckons despise.

A hatred that turns itself,
Back on to me,
Of wretched disgust,
And a hope to break free,
Of every excuse,
I keep telling myself,
I cannot but feel,
I am stuck on the shelf.

A shelf that looms over,
A perilous pit,
A moment in time,
Where my memories don’t fit,
Instead a great chasm,
Envelopes them all,
I try to climb out,
But I’m destined to fall.

And once at the bottom,
I try to make sense,
Of the trouble that landed me,
Back on the fence,
To binge or not binge,
It’s a choice that belongs,
Where a baffling origin,
Rights it’s own wrongs.

© The Complicated Bunny – 20 May 2022