Itches
no one talks about how it itches.
it burns it stings it stains
theres little streaks of shame
on the back of my pillow case
as if I could hide it
when its that close to my brain.
I think I need to put peroxide on it
a bandage?
guilt clogs the drain
but god it freaking itches,
the infection hides the shame.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world