Sta.sh
It gnaws at me.
It is gnawing.
Over and over, It gnaws.
Nibbling slowly away at me. My stomach aching from It, and me being unsure of what to do.
Helpless, hopeless, hellish. Hating It every second.
Knowing how to stop It, yet being told not to by everyone I know, have known.
And his reaction the final nail in my coffin.
So It gnaws at me.
It is gnawing.
Over and over, It gnaws.
Gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and....
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Distressed 
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*** nature is everything ***
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"Wenn wir es recht überdenken, so stecken wir doch alle nackt in unseren Kleidern."
(Heinrich Heine)
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