The thoughts
like little barbs against my skin
trying still
to claw their way in,
to leave their marks.

Little pains
that never come to be
they have to get past me-
and the person
that I have learned to be

they don't know
how I've grown

They don't understand.

Or maybe I
am the one
underestimating them

They may get in
when my
resolve has
fallen too low
for it has been known
to do so
Maybe I'll buckle
Maybe I'll kneel

But until then

I will just feel
the knocking at the door,
Insisting

On me giving in,
taking that sharpness

to my skin,

feeling

Pain.