Linger.

I'd love to change the record,
play a light,uplifting tune.
Yet it is so badly scratched,
jumping at the same point
Repeating Itself constantly.
I haven't got the heart to discard it,
trade it in for a new copy.
I'll probably play it till I die,
nauseating as it is for those who suffer it too.

It whines on and drones,feeding pessimistic energies.
I play it with my headphones on
and keep the volume low.
Obsession comes to mind.
Compulsive has been mentioned.
Disorder nails the answer.

The cognitive therapy has ceased to make Its stand.
I made a conscious effort to restrain It on the couch.

Let them analyse and sympathise,
prescribe their antidotes.
The fever is viral that flourishes for you,
defenceless are my immunities
as your vampire tendencies drain me bittersweetly.

Baring the cross with its woodworm and Its splinters.
Carrying the torch with Its dimming flame of hope.

Keeping me at arms length,
filing me away in your memory of archives
makes me feel like a shadow
As I walk two steps behind you.

.