Word Sick

A poem about the struggles of writing

I love you,
but…
sometimes when I look at you,
I feel sick.

I cringe knowing that I made you.
I don’t know why.
There is no justice as to why.
But it’s true.

My eyes avert away on their own.
It pains me to give you my undivided attention.
Again, I know not why.

It is unfair to you.
A miscarriage of justice.
I’m supposed to love you,
but sometimes, somehow,
I despise you.

You deserve better.
I’m just a poor-hearted fool
with venom running through his veins,
and avarice in the spirit.

I’m ill.
I pray for a cure.
Please unburden me of this crime.
So I can finally make you whole.

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