The Essence Of Who I Am

I have to get these stories off me

Wrestling in the ring and I’m losing

They broke in

I’m holding the knife over my chest

Closing my eyes until I pass out

Until it was morning and I woke up and it was just me and my pen all alone

It’s my prison walls

Poetry isn’t pretty

it makes me anxious

It’s the suicidal twelve-year-old’s chaotic journal

Except now I’m over 20

Is life like this for everyone

Or was this nightmare made just for me

M.A.P

©2023