It chases me;
Waiting to ambush and attack,
Nerves overtaking my chest,
Avoiding to  impress.
Why can’t I just act like the rest?

Bruised and battered,
Used and old,
But you’re so beautiful
Every scar, scratch a story told
So perfect, yet so many scars.
Why can’t I just see like the rest?

Scared and afraid of what to come,
Afraid of more scars.
Useless and imperfect
I want to be perfect;
But there is no undoing a scar.
Why can’t I just heal like the rest?

When you lie to yourself,
It hurts the most;
Trying to smile away the shame,
Disappointing a past self.
A past shell of myself grasping,
Gnawing at my own expectations.
I need to be like the rest.