This is the dark tumour that lies inside,
Once it takes hold, it never
It waits for the days to pile up enough
Working-late, fatigued-and-hormonal days
That it can grip and
It takes you to a grey place
Where you seek your hurt cave,
Lie down to lick your wounds
Hide from others' eyes
Because they might see and pity or
Worse, not see that there's anything wrong
And then, it's just better to be alone.
That's what the dark tumour whispers
In your dreams, and in your moments of doubt,
Better to be alone
Easier not to care
Safer not to try.
And even though you know the thoughts are
Not yours, and not right, the hypnotic
Narcotic lethargic draw is such that
I wave from my ice floe as it
Drifts away and you look
Very very small.