My Fault Poem by Heather Noble

A scratch.
A pinch.
A scrape.
A cut.

A turned up feeling,
In my gut.

The pain.
The horror.
The sadness.
The sickness.

Inside all this,
Scumness.

Useless.
Unbearable.
Naughty.
Mean.

All the things I feel,
Are obscene.

Dangerous.
Stupid.
Manipulative.
Psychotic.

Any mental illness there is,
I'm quite sure I got it.

Bleeding.
Crying.
Blaming.
Upset.

Over all the things,
I sure can't forget.

My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.

I open my eyes,
'Is it over yet? '