A pit in my body,

my flesh becomes fruit.


Unable to remove

the beating heart

in my stomach,

the churning ocean

of bitter waste;

a chemical concoction

that overtakes.



tethered to a mind

that cannot find

refuge from itself. 


Unable to stop

all the cortisol thoughts

moving backward 

through my veins. 


Now a victim praying

for survival.  


how much longer can

this last?


It seems purgatory 

comes in many forms,

but this one 

will never pass. 


Life of a Wallflower


Hi! Welcome to Life of a Wallflower, a place for introverts, artists, writers and most importantly, self-proclaimed wallflowers. My hope in creating this site is that people like me, who feel adrift in this chaotic world we call home, can have a place -- a garden -- of their own.


©2020 by Life of a Wallflower.