My Body

My body, ripe for the taking, filled with shames voice. Plunged into the fiery depths of self mutilation. My sense of self lashes out, and when threatened, curls inwards to my very core. The stress creeps upwards, as if failing to reach the freedom of a hill top filled with weeping willows, that sway with the loaded failures of my past. Disintegration comes when I buckle under the stress of reliving these failures. My shoulders pull back and settle into my body opening up vessels of hope. I take one step at a time as if walking the line of steadiness.