Ennia can't find her regular person words today.

[ennia]

I catalog the mental scars,
creating my own personal collection
of classified memories,
Each with it's own title,
and subject and effects,
In a morbid science experiment of my own.

As I feel the need to rip open
the scars and scabs
that make up who I am, as if,
despite the many years,
I can drain the poisons from my mind,
Drip by burning drip,
Testing them for reality before
Placing them on display as old objects.

I catalog the varieties in my head.
Each drop adding to the index
But not lessening the agony of each.
By knowing what they are,
I might come up with an antidote,
that can exists without
the wine in this glass.