Fragile

Appealing
does not appeal to me.
I do not need to be told
again
in black and white
again
that I am a cut below the rest,
again
just not good
enough.
Again
I do not need to be reminded of my hunters:
Mistakes and Failures
Breathe
down my neck every waking moment
Rue shackles me
in dreams I relive bygone days
when I was promise and hope woven into skin and bone,
where I slay
my remains.

Two things I am certain of:
No hope no disappointments.
Here is my point of no return.

I hear myself,
my unquiet mind,
all the time
Loud. Clear.
I don’t need my flaws to be pointed out
Again
Especially not by strangers
who assessed me undeserving of a chance.
So pray tell,
Why should I have to prove myself?
Again?
self-esteem has self-destructed.
Wilful pride still lies in its wake

I keep my worth in my pocket,
in my hands,
I scream:
“Perilous”
at anyone, everyone,
who approaches?
Appealing does not appeal to me.

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