The Sickness

The sickness I feel when I see my own reflection haunts me.

Some days I check if the mirror isn’t shattered,

But it seems like even the shards don’t want me.

Devastation is a simple poison –

It only kicks those already on the ground.

Each time I stand up with broken ribs there is nobody around.

Still, I’m no martyr, so hold your pity applause.

The storms keep finding new ways to shake me.

I get no breathing space, no break, no pause.

But the sickness, it sticks with me like a faithful dog,

Not letting me forget the past slip ups,

Not allowing me to know what I did wrong.

-Jackie