backpack

what is this, tied to my back

I cannot see it yet

I fall with every step

it drains and leads

and drags and fills

my irritable bones

I start to see a crack forming

at the base of my neck

traveling around, up and down

it holds me together briefly before

I crumble and is shocked

when it no longer had a host

left behind, a puddle of fear

a basin of shame, a raging river

of hatred whose sound drowned out

whatever love had been left behind.