The Thing

It grows.
Deep within me
It struggles to get out.
I try to keep it in
Yet it grows.
Oh, how it grows!
The struggle
Grating on me
Becomes harder.
I begin
To question why
I must hold on
To this thing,
Why I cannot
Let it go.
Resolve weakens.
And yet I persist
Not knowing why.
Holding on
In vain, I
Keep trying
Until
One day
A moment
I weaken
And
Release it.

It jumps
Out of me
Much larger
Than I had
Anticipated.
I know not
How I had held
Onto that thing for
So long.
And then
It darts around
Behind me.
I try to find it
But
It seems
One step faster
Than my eyes.
It enters the shadows
Where it lurks
Taunting me.

I shine a light
Trying to find
Where it abides.
But each time
I find myself
Guessing wrong.
I speak softly
Trying
To coax
The thing back in.
But
My ears
Hear only
In reply
My entreaties.

The silence
Unnerves me.
I wonder whether
It is actually
There.
Then
Out of a
Place unperceived
I hear it
Mocking me
Accusing me
Revealing me
To
The world.

In desperation
Frantically
I try
To find where
It has gone.
I try
To hide it
To quench its
Unwanted voice.
I call
Demand
For it to
Reveal itself.

And then
When I least
Expected
It
I see it.
And then
I fear
For
It has grown
To encompass
Me.
I am
Trapped.
No way out.
Locked.
No escape.
The voices
Grow
The once solitary
Voice
Is now joined
By many
All against me.

Too late.
It is far
Too late
For me to
Remember
And yet I do
Now
At this point
Remember
The reason
For holding back
The thing.
I remember the
Reason only
Because of
One circumstance:
This is
But
Deja vu.

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