Turning in bed throughout the night
Pestered by demons
Didn't invite
The last thing wanna do is face my pain
It's the only subject boiling on my brain
You said not to worry and stress without cause
Know no other way of coping with my flaws
Is it easy for everyone else to show themselves love?
Self- loathing drags me down and I cannot rise above
First doubt creeps in like 5 o'clock shadows
Insults that start small and then grow
On mind like frost coating a thin layer of ground
Freezing to the insecurity to which I am bound
Last night's insomnia paints bags under eyes
Circles so deep and dark they can't even be disguised
I eat up lies you dish out like I haven't been fed in weeks
Hungry because gut never finds the nourishment it seeks
The distractions I consume to fill the void only render me more hollow
Skeleton becomes a nest of pity in which I choose to wallow
Fears bloom faster than blossoming flowers
Watered by teardrops that pour out in showers
Within bones
The middle where marrow should be
Instead filled with stones
Inside skin a storm is raging complete with lightning and thunder
Perished as teardrops poured
Presently pain pulls me under
I quickly surrender to rain clouds in the sky
Working to save my soul
Guess it is time to accept that in this universe some forces are beyond my control

Strife is the commanding officer, because it has the very basics of its own underling under its very control.
(Which is the even more basic facts towards being in such specific details, that is "shame" itself.)
Then there's the very such direct component pieces that make up the perfect ingredients for shame itself....
Doubt. And...guilt.
Strife has NO SUCH MAIN INGREDIENT!
Mostly because... It's a commanding officer of an underling...you obviously do.
Nothing more to say or even have the very such capable guesswork for such speculating results, such as this...

One flick
of a matchstick
I light you up

One blow
at a candle glow
off you go

One glitch
of a light switch
you flicker
      off
on
      off
on

One snap
of a mouse trap

Gone

I'm living life
I'm doing fine
I'm in control

Something happens
something I do perhaps
a decision, a mood, an impulse
maybe someone

I stutter, stumble
fall right out of it
head first to the concrete

Everything is wrong
the movments of my body
the placement of my feet
what is reality?

Top down view
front row
what a **** show

Everything is to much
peoples chatter humming, building up
sun light blinding to my eyes
stop looking at me

Here we go again
take it from the top
more like bottom, crawling up

Does it get better or worse
easier or harder
strong or weak
whith each run?

What's the grand prize?
Everything feels wrong again

Either social media or mainstream
Will soon control even your dream

They don’t need your loyalty honey
Only body, spirit, time and money

(In Loving Memory Of Laura Branigan)