Retrospect
i don't have the guts to wither away anymore
i fear the bones under my skin and fragile hair
i fear a stomach that beats it's drum, crying for attention
i feel too much to stuff myself full like an old pillow
i feel the heaviness, i feel the guilt to my very core
i can't hug something that will never hug me back
i resort to shaking hands, watering eyes, and a restless mind
it is better to learn to harness my thoughts
than to blindly follow them
teenidle