Titan.

It’s screaming from the inside
so much I can’t abide
and
once again shapes are thick
I’d destroy them brick by brick

when self-esteem is something weird
that I’m told – but I do not share
I
have to be – strive to be
haunted by others’ glee

And I feel used
- hold on my bones
the only part that
will never leave me alone

Find a justification for everyone
just to be left there with my stones
to eat,
until crumbs become titans
and every target heightens; 

like steep tunnels where I lose
the control of my own shoes,
and footprints
step by step become invisible,
my dignity so despicable.

When I feel used
- not worthy of explanation,
I hold on my stones.
The scale is consolation.