That Tell-Tale Heart, Guilt.
#1 of Poetry.
you cradle it in your hands
like a lover's beating heart
feel its gentle pulse as it tries to dig into your veins
you can feel it / a little bit of corruption thriving beneath
the surface of skin and flesh and matter
you may deserve it / you may not
this is how to heal from guilt
you must acknowledge it first you must
at the very least
give it a name / give it a cause / a purpose / a place to sleep
not on the bed but perhaps
beside it
on the nightstand
you must nurture it
do not refuse to feel it you were given this
gift for a reason / by all that is left / that is holy
you must at the very least give it
house / home
it does not need to be fed
it can hunt on its own
leave the window cracked open at night
in case it gets peckish for something with meat on its bones
you must realize that guilt
is not to be feared
it is to be tamed and controlled
like any beast
when you have given it a home
and a hunting ground
and a name call to it
when you have need of it and it will come
it is the same wild thing as you once were
before civilization and iron brick by brick
built you into humanity
and when you have done all these things
my child
you will realize in the end that guilt
is nothing to be feared
merely to be respected
merely like you