Grudge is a fire that never goes out,
It crackles in silence, it festers in doubt.
A smile on the lips, but a storm in the chest,
It buries forgiveness, denies any rest.
It’s poison served from a silver plate,
Fed cold and slow with a twist of hate.
It builds high walls where bridges could be,
A jail of the soul, but the jailer is me.
It wears a mask – proud, calm, and still,
Yet whispers revenge with a venomous will.
It’s dancing with shadows, stuck in the past,
Chaining the heart to moments that last.
It clings like cobwebs to memory’s frame,
Insisting on justice but burning in shame.
A thief in the night, it steals peace away
Grudge is a ghost that refuses to pray.
Let it go, or it grows, like roots in the bone,
Till bitterness blooms and love dies alone.
For holding a grudge is digging a grave
One for the hated…
and one for the brave.
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi 