No use. The pressure is there, just behind my eyes
and I feel the swell that I cannot stem, it's all mine.
Release is not an option and I resist emotion's plans.
No use. I am overwhelmed and I reveal all my shame,
my fear and lonely self-pity. It's all mine.
I refute the evidence before me, disbelieve the truth.
No use. Denial is awash with rage but cannot fight
and is quelled through overbearing might. I call it mine.
I mutter and mumble my pleas to stop. No use,
no use at all. It stays with me, an unwanted guest
in the vacant residence of my heart, that which is mine.