the midnight abyssal black
encloses,
wrapping me in blankets
of doubt
of anger
of self-pity
and self-loathing,
until i begin to look outwards -
that i might not see myself.
until someone happens along,
and holds my gaze to a mirror.
i cannot look away,
and i must face the night
with all its demons,
unwrap the blankets one by one,
and see that doubt becomes surety,
anger becomes patience,
self-pity becomes honesty,
self-loathing becomes self-love.