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.

 

Breathless,

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.  

Begging, 

how much longer can

this last?

 

It seems purgatory 

comes in many forms,

but this one 

will never pass. 

GAD

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.

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