What can I do with all this pain?
It seeps from beneath a jovial persona
and drips on the soul like rain.
I fear the parasite will overcome the host
and their life will be but a ghost
of what it could have been.
‘But it’s who I am’ they will say, ‘don’t you see?’
And I do, so I wait, I wait for the day
when the words take all the pain away
or at least dilute it to a manageable degree.
It’s my friend who bleeds, not me.
Bloody man.
(c) 2024 Katya Marsh.
