A short poem with a clear title.
I sit alone in a crystalline cell,
All of my own choosing.
I sample and eat only words of regret.
I sip at tea of bittersweet tears.
Brewed and steeped,
As I wept.
I butter my bread on angry words.
I feed on my fears.
I taste the berry wine,
Of strong and of stupid.
I choke down all the time.
I could choose to wash down the bones,
With the acidic wet water of wishful thinking.
I choose the curdled milk of despair.
It's all I feel I deserve.