Bitterness is a nasty pill.
It rots the insides
And makes you ill.
It numbs you down
And settles in
With subtlety while mimicking
The inner workings of your will
So you can't discern this alien thing
From what proceeds from your own thinking.
Under lack of vigilance it grows until
Your mind and heart it comes to fill
Then metamorphoses
While it decomposes
The very fibre of your being,
Fermenting only to distill
As anger, hatred and envying:
By-products that keep poisoning
But make you high off your scheming.
They slowly eat away your soul
And then go on to devour you whole
Flesh, blood, bones and all.
Bereft of any self-control
You begin the final fall:
When you have nothing left to give,
They call for payment of the bill
You feel the noose start narrowing
And with cold precision, they make the kill.
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