bruised bones, curled on a chair,
tapping relentlessly, senselessly,
battling the padded wall of doubt
to get my thoughts into words.

my mind, ripped in two
aching to drift across the sea to a foreign land
to discover the remedy that ignites the
dulling fire in my belly

but also anchored, grounded in fear
the paralysing fear of failure,
whispering a repulsive slur of
patriarchal stagnation soothingly into my ear

you are not enough
you will never be enough
and my mind dotingly laps it up

(the bruises are metaphorical for stress idk)

1 comment

  1. The bruises work as a metaphor! Beautiful!
    Aleeha xXx


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