My Insecurities

My Insecurities


They are my jailers
and they hurt me.
They keep me in a dark cold room
where no light will thrive.
In a corner I am shackled
for good measure.
Escape seems impossible.

They are large scabs 
that never quite heal.
There is no balm that can soothe them.
Just under the skin,
their onslaught of venomous magots
reinfect me.

They wield decay
always.
Hope never has roots to grow.
Before I can think it
possibilities vanish before my eyes.
I have been mortally wounded
no surgeon can save me.

On the edge of light and darkness 
I perch.
I cannot take flight because my wings of been clipped
the sears of doubt
have permanently anchored me.

I falter and flutter
in this glass bottle.
I am trapped.

Though escape seems impossible
I must attempt it

or die