[Repost from January 2021]

Image courtesy of Mitch Martinez

It’s thick in my head;

the smoke of insecurity.

Little fires of doubt and

ashes of over thought,

they’re scattered around

and almost always in action.

I pretend the fires are out,

say I’m all out of doubt;

I’m not as tough as I seem.

I’m just fragile underneath.

I create fires where there’s none,

funnel smoke into my lungs,

until I’m choking on the words

and internal thoughts I hold.

I want to ask questions out loud,

and crave the reassurance;

I need help stuffing the flames,

help removing the ashes from my skin.

But I’ve tried reaching out before,

and only received a windstorm.

Turns out wind fans the flames,

And I just get burned every time.

It’s thick in my head;

The smoke of insecurity.

And I’m still fighting this battle alone.

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