The Worm
I hate him so much.
Why does he still dig deep into my stomach?
Like a worm inside my bones.
Crawling. Creeping. Squirming.
Alone.
Or together sharing a soul.
a parasite a virus
that always comes back.
Please go away.
I’ll ask nicely this time.
Or I’ll drown you out with imitation lullabies.
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