Life’s Grip

Life’s Grip
The nagging scent of rotting flesh

Stays with me.

I can’t wash it away with the days 

Trials and stressors.

It Spills over into my restful moments,

Creeps into my everyday thoughts,

Disturbs my peaceful dreams, 

It echoes into my memories,

Like a chemical spill in my brain,

Washing it with dread,

It soaks in the stench of death.

Only the kind release of life’s grip, 

will take it away. 

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