A pretty name for punishment

I can feel my guilt
The cumulative weight
Of raindrops
Frozen on lingering dead leaves
In a false January thaw


Calling myself a priority
As a pretty name for punishment
Moving in spite of the ache in my ribs
Blisters tearing open with each footfall
Saying I didn't notice as they formed
Walking on skin turned to bubble wrap
Beneath me for days afterward
Smiling through the limp


Succor in constant movement
Distraction from the unceasing tide
Of questioning my worth and worthiness


You ask me if I'm okay
I say I'm the best I've ever been
You say I look like a million
When I feel like fifty cents
It's not a lie
Because rubbing two quarters together
Is better than a pocket full of lint
But it still won't get you anything