I write
but it's a temporary relief
and must be repeated
over and over,
I'm cutting my throat
letting the words spill
out. and sometimes
no matter how I bleed
I lack the red blood cells
to make them vibrant.
and sometimes
I lack the courage,
because I know (do they know?)
I'm still that scared little girl
whose greatest fear is the dark,
the bogey man, and rejection.
I'm hiding behind
words that both make up my mask
and are the ones to rip it off
and there's nothing behind it except