I have –

Poison in my head.
A heart that is beating
but might as well be dead.

Anxiety ticking through my limbs,
clawing at my throat,
a thousand tiny pins
scratching to spill out.

Rage,
terrible, blinding, impotent.
Cold fury,
I break my bones to contain.

Puny sorrows that rub me raw.
Self-deprecation
that is more self-loathing
than feigned humility.

Amidst all this misery
I do also feel
kindness, joy, compassion.
Wonder, hope, faith
have yet to forsake me.

Let me whisper another confession –
I admit,
I have made playmates of all my demons.

Savage as they are,
I am wilder still.
I haven’t yielded yet
and I never will.