I can't really mark that exact moment

when I found it was my own hand

holding the image of myself

over the flames of a burning pit.

Watching as this thick, dark smoke

clouds over me in a blinding veil

and the edges of the image begin

to slowly curl in at the tips.

And I know

if I let the heat,

that's resonating off all of my insecurities,

lift yet another finger from the

grasp I have on my image

is just another step further

to letting it fall to be consumed

by the blaze.

And I know

I should pull my arm back to me

and save me from myself,

but I seem to be bound by a force

calling to me deep from the pit,

drawing me closer and closer

with the simplest of words,

"I am not good enough."