I am not the wounds you allow to heal.
I am the ones you continue to rip open, that you overwork and allow to scar every inch of your being.

Look into the mirror, at your reflection - Does it not reflect me?
My shadow imprints into circles under your eyes.
Your tear-stained cheeks reveal the rivers you've cried in confusion, a knowledge you never let be quenched.

Now instead you starve for a truth I was eager to hand over to you until your refusal met my passion with unacceptance.

You are so oblivious to the ease of which you could find contentment.