Present inferiority.

Sprawled upon my hands
Slits, Signs of weakness
Not open, weeping,
But evident none the less.

Marks so small, insignificant.
Holding no candle,
To gashes entwine around my wrist.

These show nothing but who I am,
I am weak.
Worthy of belittlement.

Fierce memories begin to spark,
Daring not to even look.
Thoughts, desperate moments,
Provoke sickness without sight.

Beyond deterring
This self degradation, mutilation.
Though past.
Still burning as callous in light.

Nothing short of disgrace.
No confusion.
No self-pity.

Scars of disappointment,
Numbing thoughts of failure,
Physicality simply vile.
Such a burden,
My weight to bare.