The worst is always this:
You think it’s all your fault.
You kneel before the victory of your flaws.
Your inherent darkness prevailing.
“Unlovable” seems to be the ultimate truth.
Don’t put your arms around it.
Don’t bring it with you.
Hear the angry screams of “why couldn’t you”
“why did you”, “you didn’t even” –
Listen, that voice assumes you could.
It believed you could.
Anger knows your power.
Let the pain burn and churn you
until you’re a pile of dirt
moistened by your tears,
ready for new growth.
And then, let morning
pick you up like a child.