Low presure By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
As worry lifts,
The pressure drops,
Terror racing
Never stops.
Am I cursed?
Am I sick?
Be it poison?
Be it plague?
Release me death!
End this drag!!
In the deepest Hell you'd never find
A torture awful as my mind
My essence cries and turns in knots,
Thoughts dissolve while body rots
I must have harmed a Holy One
Blasphemed boldly a divine Sun
Deserve I must the punishment thus dropped
If I had not suffered
Would I have ever stopped?
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