You’re a…

Wait. I cannot say that word,

What word?

That word I dare not mention.

That word that sits quite fluidly,

In the oft orated

But apparently draws attention.

Nonetheless,

That’s what you are.

Well, twice if not thrice that.

The word I want to call you,

The synonym does rhyme with cat.

Or that.

Or Fat Pat Sat Flat on a Mat!

But you.

You are that.

For years I’ve let you grasp,

And strangle,

And exasperate my psychology.

You’ve taken root,

In the deepest corners,

Cast doubt,

Aspersions,

And…

Questioned where I fit

Within this whole chronology.

But lo! No more.

Off you trot,

Bog off.

I’ll not apologise for being blunt.

The hold you have over me

Is over, no more.

You…

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