You call it a fit, mother.

You call it a fit.

But I am now 25 years old mother.

25.

And before this it was more hidden,

indirect, violent towards oneself

that you did not see.

Negative self-talk may have been

where it all started

and the ugly cousin of humility

may have been one of the

original culprits

but now

these fits

are panic attacks

struggles to want to live

fights against blackness

bloodshed

convulsion

fist clenches of rage

and looks of horror

into the mirror.

You call it a fit, mother,

You call it a fit.

But I am merely 25 years old mother

and these are my fights to stay alive.