Emotion

I am emotion.

I surface each night

and feel the pain of yesterday.

I write. It is a power that 

I give life. It does not soothe

me. Cast an iron shelf on 

my shoulder to carry dirt,

soot from a day of anguish

That I wish to combine 

with self-disgust, I am 

proud of my pain. I was it

like a badge that is forged

from spilled blood. Broken 

bones and scars.