Faking Reformation

From the air

caught in my throat

to the tingling

in my toes,

I know 

there's a word

for which I search;

you've already found.

Me

in my dark corner,

balled up and shaking,

faking reformation,

but it's only the shadows

creeping up from the floorboards

with chips on their shoulders

who've nothing to say.

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"So, what do you think of me now that I'm sick?" Winston Audio Recovered; In Recovery