Ridden By The Words

Ridden by the words inside my mind I ride myself down

Tear them from my own hide

Ridden down to rid myself of words riddled with despair

The wretched words filled with worms and disease, disgust and  desolation

I wrench them my from mind, attempt to throw them to the side

Yet still the perverse imperfect words prevail as I fail to rid myself of the disease

So still I write, still I go, ridden by words riddled with such pain

Like a leaper I long for life that doesn’t let me languish away

To rid myself of sores I gained as I aged, not the aching or the pains

But disgusting things that show how I have rotted away

Oh how I wish I could rid myself of these words

These things that leave me riddled and filled with holes, filled with pits as black as pitch

The pits that ooze these distasteful words, this diseased, destructive creations

So yet again I ride myself down, to tear them from my hide

Yet it never happens

Not matter how often I try


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