Shame in My Veins

I could carry the shame in my veins but would that ever stop the blood from flowing?

What I know of self-hatred and doubt is of weighted hearts walking up mountain tops with no strings to catch a fall

And the insecurities all hold bullhorns in their right hands, shouting taunts of diminishing words

strung together as righteous rhetoric

Shrink now and forever hold your peace in pieces...

like a tattered doll reunited from childhood, still smelling of teakwood and damage-