A Few of My Flaws

I am so stuck.

This pit of emptiness absorbs me.

Everything’s black.

There’s nothing.

My shoulders circle uncomfortably.

My grip tightens.

I pull my hair to try to find grounding.

I hyperventilate until I am on the brink of death.

My fingers run down my thighs,

smooth to rough to smooth.

My cuts smile back at me proud.

Another cut, another day I fought to stay alive.

The desire to scream.

The feeling of it not being okay, never forgiving myself.

I never fought back, didn’t yell for him to stop.

My passive anger remains bottled.

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