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Stalked by the Shadows
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Personal (Melancholy) Negative self-talk
is my native tongue.
My default mood
is a defeatist attitude.
I spend forever fostering
the festering wound and wonder
why scabs never heal.
I ruminate on my failures,
chewing them until my teeth ache.
The pain is like a parasite
just under the skin,
sucking out my lifeblood.
A shell of a human,
stalked by the shadows.
They choke me like chains,
keeping me a prisoner to darkness.
They tear me apart,
limb from limb,
heart from mind.
I am broken and I don't know
what it's like to be anything else.
This is my only home;
there is serenity in sorrow,
peace in misery.
I don't know if I can see myself
ever breaking free.
