27

Sometimes it starts in your head.
And soon your stomach follows.
You wrinkle your nose.
But there's no way to move on.

Other times it starts with words.
That hurt more than they should.
Some unintended, some meant to.
And your heart drops.

Sometimes it starts with what you hear.
And how you think you'll never be good enough.
A knot ties your lungs together.
And it gets harder to breathe.

Other times I see it in myself
when I'm looking at the mirror
and I realize I'm wasting my time
trying to do things I really can't do.

Sometimes it starts with a song.
Or a melody, or a memory.

Doesn't really matter.


(previously posted on January 15th, 2013)