Open Book

There is no greater agony

Than bearing an untold story

Sewn into your own skin

Bursting at worn seams

I’m greater and more grim

Than I may appear to be

The pills my doctor gave

Make me feel different

But not better, though

Would I know the difference?

They say healing isn’t linear

Mine’s in constant decline

Graphed it out, wrote it down

I got a circle instead of a line

My therapist said be mindful

While my mind wanders

I only get terribly lost

Confiding in strangers

Became worth the cost

Violate myself in service of

Murdering my stubborn ego

A sense of worth I never held

And gave away at every turn

Rubbish craves the burned

I’d give the shirt off my back

And if you still shiver

I’ll light myself on fire

From ashtrays I’ll rise

Lose a little when I burn

So I added fuel to the fire

Jump off bridges with friends

Pockets weighted with laments

So the flames that lick my feet

Will have a little more to eat

I make sure others are fed

Before I have a single meal