Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Baggage and crumpled notes
It’s not your fault,
It’s me.
Always me
who sabotages my old wounds
to make them new again
so I can call it a bandage
when it’s nothing more
than a scapegoat.
My shoulders are too heavy
to take on more blame.
I am weighed down already
with regret
that eats away at my flesh
and there’s no room
for all the resentment
built into my bones.
My bags have been packed
for so long.
It’s the baggage inside,
I never learned how to put it down.
I never learned how to walk without it.
Call it a crutch if you will,
A drug I can’t stop taking.
So I fill my veins with self doubt
until I’m collapsed
and bleeding out
in the reflection of my own flaws
and I soak in the comfort
of knowing that’s where I’m safe.
Treading inside the self image
and it’s so fucking…
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