self portraits

i see the irony
in spilling my guts
yet shying away
from any attention
selling goods while
finding the shilling
to be repugnant
all i ever wanted
was enough
not everything
but a fair share
to survive a life
spent waiting to die
the writing began
as a documentary on
the silliness of trying
it became a lifeline
of one inexplicably
always drowning
i stopped running
from what was wrong
inside my broken
and forced myself
to hold the broken bits
tight enough to bleed
i share my sorrow
so no one looks at me
god hates ugly
and i am the ugliest
splotch on creation
hell ever dreamt up
so i see the irony
in sharing every scar
yet flinching away
when it is noticed
some agonies are meant
to be shared while
most miseries are forced
the world keeps spinning
regardless of which
you vomit into being

3 thoughts on “self portraits

  1. I’m reading this scientific novel about the creation of the universe, planets, space, stars, sun, blah blah. One argument that it made is that there is nothing special about humans. We’re existing on this rock, but no one cares about us. Nothing cares. The universe wouldn’t budge if the sun swallowed the Earth tomorrow. So be humble. I see this reflected in your poem a little and i just wanted to share.

    Liked by 1 person

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