Sicknesses

Fear, the palpable kind
The truth was always what I hid from in this mockery of my heart
And in the end it was always you
The weakest link in the gold chain
The only scar that still bled
The mark of my weakest moments
And twenty four months and fourteen days after
I'm still running in circles around the cages in my brain
where I'm trapped.
The walls bear your name and your face is the protagonist
in the plot of every dream
And I have
run
out
of
Escapes.