Today I feel crazy irrational and shame spirally due to sleep deprivation and stress and possibly hormones. This poem illustrates those feelings well.


revised version of “false”

my soul is a dingy, unlovable lump—I know because mommy tells me
and mommy is God, if I disobey fire will spread and ash me out
I’ll eat only when she serves attention

I make believe I’m loved
put on grand productions in my head—reviews label my scenes tragic
but if I can just smile wide and laugh loud enough to fool my audience
I can trick myself into believing too, then I can hide forever

I beg forgiveness but my parts are mute
I abandoned us here to rot a long time ago, chopped of our needs
sacrificed my own self for a light, wisp of attention, a puny hope of a fix
for my disparate soul, an emaciated love

I forgot myself
how can I possibly let that go?
how can I possibly not?

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