I struggle with my selfishness,
The seriousness of my disease,
My grasp on things is premature,
My thoughts still do whatever they please.

Inside my mind it begins to pour,
And although I scurry from the rain,
My worry leaves no place to hide,
Nothing to crouch behind to keep me sane.

It seems I always return to this place,
Where all the moments I earn I set free,
I wait for burned bridges to re-emerge,
And somehow undo the damage in me.

I still reside within my own skin,
Feeling emotion against my will,
Outside I spill a few tentative words,
But the ocean of guilt is hard to ****.

I'm pestered by the knowledge of my flaws,
Endlessly listed in my reflection,
They appear when I pause and catch myself,
In the mirror without perfection.

They dig their way beneath my nails,
And splinter into my self-esteem,
Everyday loathing is the price I pay,
To keep at bay these fraying seams.