Anathema
I was once my own monster
My own fear and terror
Anathema
I buried the length of my arms in mahogany sleeves
My legs were wrapped in jeans that tore into the fresh wounds on my skin
They felt sheer
Like the red scabbing lines burned through and shone like ugly blood-sucking bugs
There was comfort in my lungs when I was finally alone; a sigh of relief
My breath filled the empty space between my walls like bacteria
I inhaled a disease and exhaled any sanity remaining in my chest
I grew sicker
I felt any peace of mind fade daily
Flickering like a failing candle
One day
It was blown out by the wind of friendships gone cold
And a body image gone sideways
Every morning, I forced together the pieces of broken skin and dry bones with nothing but a facade
It often tore and pieces crumbled and corners became bent and edges fell apart altogether
Until I shattered like a light bulb from the ceiling fan
The light goes out
The pieces scatter
I was an imminent tragedy
An inevitable travesty of a human being
Depression tore me in more than just two
It ripped apart my self-esteem
My self-image
My unique traits and incomparable personality
I became an emotionless robot in a miasmic life; everyday was a sore trial on my back
But I learned to hope for the future
To hope for a change and a new life
A chance to dig myself up from the dirt compressing me together so deep in the earth
I found strength in frailty
I found a future in cruel demise
I found a dream within a grotesque nightmare created by the torture chamber in my brain
I found confidence in weakness
I am more than a bland face in the crowd or dirty gum under a shoe
I am golden and triumphant
No such thing as last
There is more to life than drowning in angst and fear
I was once my own monster
You don't have to be afraid of yourself