It’s a ball of quills
quivering in constant motion
that I hold tightly in my hands,
trying to contain it,
and the more I squeeze
the deeper each quill digs,
parting my flesh to get to the meat of me
and its’ poison seeps,
slowly at first and then
quicker, faster, rapidly
growing closer, nearer,
following the vines of my veins
until it reaches my heart.
The sound beating grows erratic,
losing natural rhythm until my cells
are replaced with apprehensions
and each desperate beat of my heart
ticks a clock’s time,
and I squeeze tighter in my pain,
enhancing the quill’s power
in the act of suppressing.
I would really like an opinion on this. I wrote it in the middle of pre-exam stress, but I feel like it can relate to more than that. I’m also having trouble with the title, so any input on that would also be greatly appreciated. What I have right now is spur of the moment… I’m not really sure what title really fits.