Poems from the Hurt

Self-Loathing

Numbness creeps into the very veins that refuse to speak for me
And yet they still bleed
With every puncture
Every laceration
Everything that is ever forged out of hiding
Abiding by crippling sensations

And yet if I pursue the contemplation of my feet embracing Mother Earth
Or my body being encompassed by a closed casket six feet under her
My choice will be simple, but my decision will not be made
As I am afraid cowardice not only encompasses
But suffocates my misdirected brain
Whose judgement is clouded by the way my heart used to ache
And what it meant to feel pain

And for some odd reason
I have this undying need to apologize to my mind
To my heart and to my soul
As it must be my fault that I can't feel a damn thing
Because I can't find some damn self control

Still I can't fathom the way freedom sings into my ear
Because when responsibility knocks on my door I apparently cannot hear
But I know who's there
As I find myself sinking
Thinking that I am the anchor to this very world
Because I let everyone down
But can't seem to drown in my own self loathing
Knowing—I am just a wolf in sheep's clothing