Infection

Rage bubbles inside my skin,

trapped and desperate

to breathe out,

corrode & corrupt

anyone reckless enough to be near me.

I am no child throwing a tantrum,

No scorned lover seeking revenge.

I am a young woman in my twenties

and I have a lifelong disease.

The pain, the weakness, the loss of trust in your own body

The betrayal, the loneliness, the hatred of pity

The sorrow, fear, confusion & desire to escape this skin prison

Nothing can prepare you for any of it,

especially not the pure, unadulterated fury coming to a slow boil,

the simple clarity of a “why me?” that you want to scream to the skies.

I know I can’t let this malady or any of it’s minions define me

But it’s hard to stay rational when everything inside is screaming for release.

So for today, screw being positive. I’ll find my hope again tomorrow.

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