Feeling sick, feeling frightened, feeling out of control.
Fear letting that parasite out of the hole,
Where it’s bored and it’s buried, and ripped through its host.
Where it hides in the shame, haunting me like a ghost.

It’s all over, shouldn’t matter, was so long ago.
I’m lucky, compared to others, I know.

But I still feel it’s there, infecting my mind,
A slow death of shame, making me blind.

If I open the scars, will I ever repair?
If it all spills out, will anyone care?
Or reject my pathetic, say I shouldn’t be there?
**** it up and move on *****, life isn’t fair.

No glass in the mirror,
No string in the blinds,
Bag searched for things to hurt me,
Observed to be kind.

Be kind to this broken wreck of a shell?
With meds and talking, could I become well?

Don’t give me hope,
It’s further to fall.
I’m not strong, not able
To ever stand tall.

Strangers - who all know unbearable pain,
All hoping to never feel this again.
Or maybe we’re all expecting to fail?
So they’ll all say ‘she tried - but to no avail’

Loved ones can then know,
They did all they could.
That we tried and we cried,
But were misunderstood.
I really don’t want to pass on this pain.
But I’m too tired, too useless,
To fight this again.