Rachel Fallon

Letter to Self-Judgement

there never
was a day
when you wouldn’t

your wounds were

it would
crawl under

you’re skin

but that hum
of a hundred
in ear de-
fined you

stop dreaming of


I tripped
my sister at
the park

raw flesh on
palms and knees

and lay blame
to the sticks

mother quoted
Camus, “art is
a confession”

so I painted my
pillow in

& slaughtered my
disclosures in
my sleep


tell my mind to go but it refuses to comply what
if it never stops tossing and turning I hear the
ticks in my hypothalamus I strive for images to
amuse my nagging cork the fabric’s a cocoon
I am a child wrapped too tight


one sheep two sheep my lids drop too soon
I grasp relief it’s torn away start over count
the ceiling tiles I consider tomorrows script
as the tingles in my toes lift heavy limbs I
soar into a sudden reprieve my eyes rip open
the alarm sounds

Rachel Fallon is a first-year student at Boston University. She is studying animal biology, although she enjoys writing and art. She hopes to some day be published and active within the poetry community.