don't be a stranger

fragility

Guilt moves through me just as seamlessly as relief.

I carry that restless, wretched feeling like a worn-thin blade; my only weapon
Against a trigger-happy world.

This is my demise, and my deserved tool.

My helpless cries manifest as manipulation and shame.
I drag others under my waves, and then demand their empathy to justify my lackluster quality.

I am the worst version of myself,
But without the motivation for growth this time around.