This thing called shame

this thing called shame

it has no words, a
silence 
that lives just beneath the
surface
whether we are aware or
not. Its ugliness rises up
with the slightest insinuation
and rather than admit it
we block it out and
move forward with a machete
chopping down everything in our path.
rather than asking for help
when life gets tough we
allow perfectionism
to silence us
into overwhelm
and then we attack
whatever we can find that
is just a bit smaller than
ourselves.

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