What are these cuts in me
these slashes
leaving me bloodless,
leaving me thirsty,
leaving me alone and naked and cold?
Who am I
with these scars I don’t recognize?
I’m not at all
the man I thought I would be;
I am not at all
the woman I promised I was.

I am afraid.
I am lost.
I am only me.

What if that
isn’t enough?

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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