Sunday wordle: I will not linger (Or perhaps I will I can’t seem to help myself.)

I will not linger in the storms you pass
That’s a lie, I know I will
all the signs are there
or rather torn apart
that you’ve been through
and I’m sick of you
and myself
because you leave carnage in your wake
some subtle some not so
and I always chase after these feelings
and afterthoughts
anger tinged with sadness
but I prefer the anger
till I do something rash
then I regret how I left myself
drifting in your storm
you cast a spell on my mind
treading through your footprints
knowing you’re always one step ahead
always watching
I can’t afford sympathy for you anymore
Probably neither the anger
but in your storms, I drift
and in my mind you fritter away my thoughts

Get away!

I don’t have room for sympathy
For you
Or empathy
It’s been torture
All these times going round my head
Through cycles of anger and apologetic sorrow
I can’t do it anymore
Not today, not tomorrow
I cared too much
And you walk over me like I’m dirt on your shoe
I’m supposed to feel for you
“He’s ill” they say
Well, I can’t care anymore!
Get the fuck away!
GET THE FUCK AWAY