I tear into myself
before the day even starts
ripping at every thought,
every flaw,
like a predator dismantling
something already half-dead.
My mind doesn’t criticize.
It mauls.
It drags every weakness
into the light
and beats it bloody
until all that’s left
is the shaking thing
I call “I”
I sentence myself
over and over,
a private execution
carried out in whispers
pacing around the room.
Every memory becomes a weapon
Every mistake becomes ammunition
Every breath feels stolen
from someone more deserving.
And in the mirror,
I meet the face of the culprit
the coward,
the fraud,
the disappointment—
and I feel the same familiar urge
to wipe that reflection off the surface
But it stays.
It always stays.
The only enemy
is the one welded
to my bones.