SUSPICIONS

 

They inject me with their nasty venom

That burns like hell, forcing me down to my knees

Begging for mercy, dejected, and forlorn.

 

Their sleazy informants attack out of the blue

Armed to the teeth with unreliable clues

To warrant their hostile takeovers

Hoping to catch me wholly unprepared

To cope with their inflicted despair.

 

Why are you targeting me?

What have I done to you?

I am not the ugliness you project on me.

No dark secrets are locked in my closet.

 

Why obsessively cling to a shadow reality

—A wobbly house of straw?

Why pronounce me guilty against all reasonable doubt

When there is not one shred of evidence

Disproving my maintained innocence?

 

Suspicions proliferate in the underworld,

Seeding it with their malice.

They put a damper on my mood,

Placing me under a strict gag order,

While driving a sharp knife in my heart.

 

I cannot stand their pestilence.

I yearn for comforting sun-rays,

And crave the saving grace of breaths of fresh air.

 

Anyas Spencer, Medford, Oregon, June 20,2019

 

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