I grab a handful of salt
rubbing it into the wounds of my mistakes,
berating myself for thinking things I mustn’t
and wanting things I shouldn’t.
The sting takes over my senses as I spiral into self-loathing,
wishing I was a better person than this.
As I pour on the negative thoughts,
the pain burns me up.
Seeping from the hidden sins in my mind,
my moral failings start to blind my sight.
I add extra salt as I think of all the people in my life
who deserve better.
It scorches like a half-truth.
I take out another handful from a jar called perfection.
Throwing more onto my mistakes,
I salt the wounds of my own humanity.