(no subject)
Have you ever
had that feeling?
That one, where there's
an itch
right on your skin,
right on the surface.
Like it's a a a
a physical manifestation
of your own inadequacy.
Like it's taunting you,
with every shift of flesh
beneath the irritation.
"I am your highest hopes,
and your deepest insecurites
splayed out for everyone to see,
and for you to scratch at."
And you can't say no.
You can't deny yourself,
so you scratch
you scratch until you bleed,
until there is red
gleaming underneath your
fingernails,
marking everything you touch
and it makes you wonder:
are your insecurities contagious?
Are they like bread crumbs,
counting their way down to you?
And will their victims resent you?
Will they hate you
as much as you hate yourself?
Will the big bad wolf
(big bad you)
come and eat you away?