Rising in my throat something

desperately wants out.

Inside I’m itching constantly

to swing my arms and shout,

profanities to the high and mighty

if he really does exist,

curse his name

for the pain and cut my wrists.

I’m sinking deeper,

watching myself slip.

I don’t give a sht.

I’m losing my grip.

Behind me is this ghost of a girl.

I can’t look her in the eyes.

I know she was there every moment

I was telling all of my lies.

The things that you don’t see,

the things that I don’t show,

the things I keep inside because

I don’t want you to know,

she sees it all and she haunts me.

She’s my guilt and my better side,

the one who holds her ground,

the one who keeps her pride.

Why can’t I be her?