My bones crack with jealousy of a kind

I have experienced only on faint nights

Of myopic vision and nauseating pity

It rises from the ashes of a distinct past

Where free-spirited enemies have left me aghast

For secretly, I wanted to be like them

And get rid of the anxiety that crawled

On my nape like a vermin enthralled

My progress, forevision – everything stalled

For a period of days that I would count

At the bottom right corner of my journal

Making this resentment more eternal

As every word sunk into the page

I’d feel this inflamed, agonising rage

Escape through the backdoor of my

Now dilapidated mind, that has spent

Too many nights immersed in exactly this fright

That renders me helpless, my breaths I count,

Till the night dissolves, and I lie with no sound.

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