Bad Choices Meet Anxiety

It’s pulling me,
dragging me,
yanking my skin
from my bones
in tiny tremors,

and I can’t stop
doing things
to make it worse.

Each step ignites
even more aching shudders,
ones that drive spikes
into my eyes
until I scream out,
knowing that each bite
is my own,
each sour drop of pain
began with me,
with the steps
I can’t stop making.

I’m about to destroy myself.
Fuck it.
I already have.

I am only shattered bits,
tiny tendrils of something
that used to be,
someone who once was
strong,
bold,
good.

Now, I am pieces.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

~Patience

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