Photo Credit: MartaC at

This anxious melancholy
cloisters me,
wraps me up
in breath-taking blankets.

It’s stealing my light
and dulling
the trees, stars, voices.

So much sprinting
through my mind,

back and forth,

back and forth,

incessant pacing
between thoughts,
and I can’t keep up
with myself.

I’m suffocating on
self-inflicted wounds
that run the length of me,
and they burn
from confusion
and inattention,
from avoidance
and inaction.

I’m in a forest
filled with fog,
my hummingbird-heart buzzing,

and I’m trying to
punch my way out.



7 thoughts on “Self-inflicted

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