It bubbles beneath the skin,
Small ripples emanating from the core of a wounded heart.
Tiny lingering flecks of closeted anxiety,
Compressed with age and hidden by tenacity.
Living fossils that once roamed freely within her soul,
Tearing through the ages and spreading corruption,
Flavoring her every passing thought – her actions.
An excruciating monologue jammed into a loop
– and stuck fast.
What was once a whole sea of anger, now lingers a quiet resignation.
Yet I feel it. Simmering, festering, a silent volcano,
Waiting to submerge.
This poem was written using inspiration supplied by Sammie Cox and the Weekend Writing Prompt was ‘submerge with a word count of 86.
If you want to join in you can check out her blog over at sammiscribbles