failure

failure
feels like fake smiles
a hollow stomach
and a drooping soul

though it’s only a bruise
I see a tattoo
my mirror shows a scarlet F
stamped across my face
dripping down my cheeks
and into my mouth
so everything I say is tinted red

how dare I believe
my only risk was flying too close to the sun
when I barely got off the ground

how can I continue to stretch my wings
when they are ripped and torn and bleeding

Published by Anne Taylor

Anne Taylor is a freelance writer who loves talking about mental health, wellness, and all things Disney. She resides in Spokane, WA with her dog Pepper and spends as much time in the sunshine as possible.

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