It crawls
Under my skin
Like a flesh-eating bug.
Chomping on my nerves
Making me flinch
At the slightest touch.
God, I can barely
Keep my thoughts straight.
Who should I tell, who should I tell?
This can’t remain a secret.
In my heart I know
That this situation
Is a bad one.
There is something wrong with me.
Who should I tell?
What should I say, what should I say?
These broken bottles
In my mind
Hold all my trickled-out secrets.
Ever since they exploded
A few years ago
I’ve never been able to hold it in.
And even though
It's only been four days
How could I now?
Are my friends understanding?
Will they know I’m not insane?
Will they tell someone?
…Would they betray me to help me?
Scared, I sit and wait
Inside myself
Waiting for someone to knock
And let themselves in.
But I know they won’t.
So I lift up my head
And prepare to pour my bottled secret
Into someone else’s glass.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a Self-Proclaimed Addict
PoetryAddiction is like a fire: It consumes everything--your life, your soul--in a colorful fury. Victims are entranced. But behind the colors and the warm heat there is damage. The question is, can you get out before it burns your whole world down? ....T...
