PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My skin was a prison;
I was bound to succumb
to my own destruction.

My soul became hell,
a dark abyss where
hope went to die.

when hating yourself
is your default,
it is unbearable to even exist.

Self-loathing
was as involuntary
as breathing.

I inhale and exhale
every hateful word
that enters my mind.

They are now
a part of me,
attached to my bones.

My body fights to survive,
while my heart
has all about given up.