From fretting at a spot too long
the wall began to thin.
Through it all, was heard a call
a rumbling from within.
"It's just not fair!" the Rally.
"It hurts. It hurts a lot.
Was it something said or done
or something that was not?
A random, bait less, trawling hook
a moment's pause, a second look?"
Regardless, dark hearted, red handed
you were caught.
From fretting at a spot too long
a dip became a dent
deeper, deeper, darker
with every moment spent.
And now the keening, shrill and clear
a warning from within.
But heed it not
damn should and ought
and punch right through the skin.
"At last!" the Rage, "At last to know!
The how, the why, the who."
And peering in the well worn hole
see looking back is you.
