It took more than a list of reasons,
and an empty bottle of wine to convince me.
I am worth what I have to offer,
and what I have to offer is slim.

I have designated the role of Savior,
to myself, the one who has always fallen.
Especially when mirrors are shattering,
and pencils are breaking,
all because I cannot handle my emotions.

I am weaker than I imagine and
I am stronger than I tell my friends.
I have lost the ability to portray myself
as a fighter should.

My list of reasons is running long,
as to how pathetic and self-loathing
I have come to be.