In deep crevices, my guilting cycles reside,
Mind overgrown, weaving delusions as a guide,
Rooting themselves deeper in unsettling lands,
Unrevealed in darkness, where pain silently stands.
Seeing the forest only for its rotten roots,
Blind to the begotten beauty that takes its shoots,
Mycelial branches of guilt, shame, and blame,
Untouched by questioning, they thrive in their game.
Leaves of repression, silencing expression’s voice,
Allowing shame to linger, leaving little choice,
Ruminating on the wrong roots, my thoughts entwined,
Caught in the grip of shame, unable to unbind.
In this apocalyptic genesis of love and treason,
A rebirth of old roots beckons, a timely reason,
Moving forward with newfound insight and grace,
I reconcile with my reckoning, finding solace’s embrace.
No more turmoil of the passing seasons,
I cast aside the chains, breaking free from the reasons.
A renewed spirit emerges, freed from internal strife,
No longer imprisoned by the echoes of a troubled life.