There is a wasp in my room and we both can’t exist as it brings me terror of pain that persists.  
Do I fear the thought from the past that is keeping me paralyzed here all alone?  
Is this an echo of heartbreak and loss that I don’t condone?  

The stone is worn from years of travel while stashed in my pocket to remind me of then.  
It was sharper when it joined my journey to remind me of sin.  
It dug into my leg and wore out my pants it has traveled with me as penance of past.  

Now no more than a marble I’ll lay you to rest I threw the burdensome rock at my red winged tormentor’s nest.  
It broke out my window and my fear flew away but was it the just the rock or my wasp that left me that day.