I threw it away

Not realising I would come to call it my most favoured crown.

Fascinated seeing my self riding waves of the guilt

drowned in salt tears of rumination to the hilt.

letting mom down

all my fam too.

Those who truly love me.

There are but few.

Hot damn! That’s better than cool.

Gave self-destruction a permit to ride out a course of self-flagellation

decorated in sleuth

The truth hit me oops upside of my head

Discombobulated -I saw the truth.

I let myself down

I deduce.

Take me back to my roots.

Be nt over crooked

wrung my hands for people who haven’t left my life

Yet

Anticipate gloom & doom.

allow these drum beats to perform

my body afloat

on cloud nine singing cheerfully to the staying alive tune…

Regrettably, I’m responsible for this present predicament.

There goes a fully armed disorderly platoon.

One setback

folded like that grieving widow.

She had a reason

I still have an abode

I’m not a widow.

I’m down on my knees & up off them almost like it didn’t happen

Stood defiant still feeding an outdated superstition

of other motives

This is my prison.

Trust in people

Risk my heart

Yes, It didn’t go my way

This was a time to not fall apart.

A glimmer of hope I’ll grow strong

again

Make mirth and merriment

not misery & disappointment.

I have only one person to blame.

I disappoint myself over and over again

then Surprise myself by what achievements I continue to create.

How am I to play this next move?

escape to another alternative reality – never to bloom!

Or talk about my feelings -is anyone listening?

Cos they have, what is the problem, strewth?

facing all that ‘I feel fat’ STUFF

Makes me wanna holler hey you, cat, scat!

Look me in the mirror & be proud

of my deeds for seven consecutive weeks.

Nor ask my loves to keep turning another cheek.

I’m ashamed.

I am to blame.

I have to fight

My mother is alright. I mean my mother is right.

This half-hearted escape acts

attempts on my life.

attempts to self-harm

They come & they go.

If I can keep this train of thought

the cravings of self-hate might go

come back

less frequently…

Perhaps I will still hold on to some of my dignity

or become a statistic…

We all end up a statistic one way or another

What statistic do I want to come under?

Now there’s a question to ponder over.