I never used to be like this,
Not even 4 months ago,
I never used to wake up feeling sick
to my stomach,
Disgusted with myself, that I'm a
problem that people have to deal with,
Filled with anxiety causing a shaking
in my heart and ribs,
These butterflies are not cute,
They have wings of glass, puncturing
me from the inside out.
They're not because of you, but only
a repercussion of thinking of you,
and him, and her, and them,
and then, and when, and how.
               You'll leave.
               He thought he didn't hurt me.
               She was the only thing I had.
               They showed me I can't be one
               of them.
               Then the butterflies awoke,
               When I couldn't cope,
               How can I trust that you
               won't do the same.

I'm not a person. I'm the problem.