I often sit in the corner
Of my room or in my head,
Arms around my knees,
My body balled up;
There are scratch marks,
Bruises, cuts, unseen;
These thoughts have force,
These feelings, claws,
My eyes are closed,
Fighting the tears,
I am so afraid
Of my fears
My doubts, my insecurities,
Taking over my being,
They come repeatedly,
A-knocking, haunting,
And I am tired of them,
So weary of them,
Because I always
Come out battered
And weak
After battling them...
So now everytime
I feel their presence,
I cower, I break down,
And I hear myself,
Uttering quietly,
"Please... don't."
