I have to speak
The words are building up and are becoming stale
I have lost something essential
Yet I can't recognize what it is
I have become weak
My knees buckling, skin turning pale
A thought has been planted
And it is spreading like a ****
"What if they don't like me"
It branches into all past rejections
And has become a large tree
To be truthful
I can't handle it
There seems to be more scars
In its gnarled trunk
Then there are stars
Caught in its reaching branches
It is of my own building
I watered and fed it
With self-pity
And now I have the gall to reject it
It is me