Self-Loathing

something is wrong with me  
i know it i feel it in the rot  
under my ribs where all the good things die  
because i killed them  

i ruin everything i touch  
and i keep touching  
i beg for love then choke it  
i make people leave then call myself lonely  

my tears are rehearsed  
my pain is selfish  
i build disasters out of nothing  
and call it trauma like it excuses me  

the mirror doesn’t even flinch anymore  
it’s used to me lying  
used to me pretending i deserve breath  
when i know i don’t  

i am the reason it hurts  
the reason they go silent  
the reason the world feels heavier  
i made it this way  

something is wrong with me  
and i made sure it stayed  
because if i healed  
who would i blame but me