With me, I carry this weary load,
It seems as if to be a part of me now.
Weighing down, my shoulders slump,
Stress along my furrowed brow.

It eats away at me,  getting in my head.
Telling me how I'm better being erased.
Playing reels on repeat through the night,
Wake up from fault being chased.

Try to let go but the grasp is strong,
For this load keeps maturing where I feel stuck.
I can feel it's weight but I'm lost without it,
Who am I but this sick fuck?

To be free is to be anew,
And who am I to ask of such gifts?
Instead, I take this blade of mine,
With each slice, weight temporarily lifts.

Backdated 8/16/19