Relapse

By , Sebastpol, CA
Frosted cuts
Sickled on my wrist
Nail bitten dowm
Akwarkd stinging
I've been doing this for years
I can hide the crime
Rituals, routines
Tricks, and tactics
Mind, layden with ugly thoughts
Intertwine to my my long braid
Of doubt, this empty esteem of
Myself

Infuriating dependence
What joys await
If I could be as I appear?
Alas hateful worlds penetrate
To the stucking place in the
Haunting hours of the sleepless
Morning

Silk hands
With nothing to hold
Grope the air
In vain hope
Hope!





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