Plagued by bows of insecurity. Like rat scrambling for food, among cleaned out trash cans. Find any and all evil to feed on, feeding it self, blacken hope and fear. I'm simply too insecure. I just want to return everything the way it was. Maybe, it is only when I start to love myself that i can escape this never ending of doubt of myself. I should stop and stare into broken glass and smash the pieces which i find hard to look at. Pieces by pieces, like scattered glitter breaking in grains of sand. One day, it will feel nice against the hand.
