Who's to say that its wrong
for me to have all these people
in my head?
They talk to me.
They don't want to hurt me,
because they are me.

Who's to say I shouldn't stay awake
until the deepest hours and beyond,
cascading my wonderings
onto this electric paper?
It's what I do best.
It's when I do best.

Who's to say what is too serious?
Can I rely on someone else to
work it all out for me?
They all want for themselves.
They all betray themselves.
And I love them for it.

Who's to say that to cry was wrong?
And that to escape their prison
of bodily healing, where they don't feed
or allow sleep, and
force my onetruefear on me,
I just wanted mental relief.
I was going to go back.
I did go back.
I just needed to not be alone.
But I didn't want her to worry.
I failed in that.
I failed her in that.