The Moral Dilemma: Poetry

I stand beside him
And he is like a
Stranger;
His presence now
is absence
Of warmth:
Chilled
~
Is it a lie or isn’t it?
~
That ache is so deep
That trying to touch it
Is like pressing the valve
Of my tears
~
And it is eating me
up inside
All these things,
these secret things
~
I am scared to
touch that hurt,
It runs right through me
In waves that don’t stop
~
It burns my stomach into
Cinders until I can’t
see straight for the life of me
~
And all I want
is to make it go away;
I want to run
~
Is it a lie or isn't it,
this rumor that I've heard?
~
My mind can't expel
the doubts,
And my heart can't dispel
the misery
of knowing something
as yet unproven that
no one suspects but me.

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