Scarred

Tight ropes,
my stiff heart and
my madness.
Turned my back
on the wrong side...
Days like treadmill,
fast and bitter,
dusk 'till dawn,
midnight howl.
My windows have no curtains:
seems I've nothing left to hide.
Exhibiting my paranoia
might be a letdown
(or a score).
What I expect from
being selfish
not realising that
in fact
i am?
Prove myself another
victim:
worthless
paralysed
young
pround
and scarred.

jan 6th 2009