That sickening feeling


I try yet again to throw up all the vile inside,
the sea of doubts swimming in the pit of the stomach.
The depth where shalllow tendencies lie,
my insides where it all sums up.
The fingers that I point,
the ones pointed at me.The hopes that I disappoint,
the accusations that plague me.
The sickening trail of thoughts lie derailed,
as juvenile thoughts pave their own path in the monotony.
The melancholy of the machinery envelops me in the chaos once again,
in the vicinity of the factory.

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