Bitterness

(this poem is the result of a writing prompt that asked "what does bitterness look like?")


Bitterness is a dark, dark cloud
rolling in over the clear plains,
blurring your vision and proper reasoning.

It is foul smelling,
like a dead,
rotting creature.
It is not a living being;
it is the side effect of interacting with a living being.

Its taste is rancid,
like spoiled food left in the fridge long enough it blossoms into beautiful artwork with dazzling colors.
But these colors are not beautiful.
They are frightful and alarming,
warning signs of
Danger Ahead
and ill emotions festering for too long.

Bitterness is stale air.
No movement.
No friendly breeze.
No wind in the sails.
It is like a sea vessel,
once grand and heroic,
now sitting languidly and hopelessly in harbor.

Do not feed bitterness,
for it will morph into a monster and devour its host.

Excavate your heart and soul.
Dig deep
and unearth the evil within
before it takes root and grows into a hideous, thorny weed.