If I just stay still I can keep me all together.

Bound by tape and bits of string that keep me to a tether.

I’m a piece of art if you turn your head just so.

But at normal, casual glance I’m the garbage that you throw.

I’m a shrinking violet in spotlight of the sun,

Birthing creeping vines you look in horror and then run.

I’m the hidden thing in the barn upon the hill.

Bellowing some sinful speech to summon some ill will.

I’m an amalgamation of the horrors in the mind.

I’ve given up my sanity to leave the pain behind.

This poem is a play on how trauma can affect the mind, making you hate yourself while becoming a cruel thing to protect your mind from the outside world. I was going to try to keep it serious but the thought of a beautiful flower becoming an eldritch horror was too fun! Shallow and silly, but fun.