The only thing there is to fear
is myself.
I am too strong,
a set of vectors in every direction
that leave me suspended
in the middle of a compass.
I catch myself in between with tugs,
volatility in each direction.
I pull at my feet,
my hands and heart.
I drag myself until there
are scratches on each square centimeter
and my insides are turned out.
I only have to fear myself,
myself that follows me everywhere
and is there while I live and sleep.
I kiss myself good night
and then tear at my face.
I give myself nightmares
and wake myself up again.
I bathe myself each morning,
then pluck out all my hair.
I am bald and inside out,
and someone else
must put me right again.
For I cannot do it myself.