Every Single Failure

I collected secrets daily.

I promised mysef that each was the last. 

A promise that lasted a day, then needed replaced.

I filled up with these discarded promises, 'til I was brimming. 

Sickened,

locked in a chamber with all my daily failures, and they summed me up.

I could not see myself as anything other

than the sum of all these parts.

 

I kept them there, inside a feeble belief I could digest them all myself,

that eventually this mass of broken promises, failures, shame,

would work it's way through me,

out of me,

and I'd be pure again.

 

But it would never happen.

I had to cut them out.

And show them to the world,

no polished versions, no details ommitted,

no easy way out.

 

I needed someone to know everything.

Every single failure. 

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