Cut to Fit


Reaching in

through my shadow,

finding the broken parts of me.


healed into scars,

jagged and shameful.

Unskilled hands in surgery.


I learned long ago,

that life

is painful,

and full of atrocities.

Everyone has

their own private hell,

and I

am not immune

to the disease.


In the darkest moments,

no one is coming,

no one can help,

or save the day.

We either endure

this malevolent manifestation,

or we die.


Running around

with things like that

in your head,

spending the rest of your life


Unable to process

the reasons why,

and the after effects.


I could never give away my pain,

nor would I want to.

I wouldn’t wish any of it upon you,

or anyone.


My shame

and basic dissociation,

wouldn’t fit you,

and besides,

you’ve got your own mess, anyway.



you’re one of the lucky ones.

Maybe trauma didn’t nest

inside your head.

If that’s the case,

then keep on living happily,

and leave the dying

to the dead.


Putting on my favorite misery.

Wear it around,

proud and unique.

I made it myself,

tailored to fit,

and I must admit;

this suit has made me.



HG – 2020

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