"In order to go on living one must try to escape the death involved in perfectionism." - Hannah Arendt.


Fractured glass reflecting the figure I hide.
Mind shutting down but eyes open wide.
Thinking about the face in that reflection.
Trying to obtain a certain perfection.
White bathroom broken by beautiful pink.
As blood and tears mix inside the sink.
Lips sewn shut with invisible thread.
Blocking out thoughts that enter my head.
Pounding fists to counter as I try to relax.
Tears streaking down, creating two tracks.
Feeling so fearful, so ashamed and afraid.
Hiding behind disguises and a false masquerade.
Thoughts break loose, so does a scream.
As heart and soul get torn down the seam.
Falling to my knees, trying to breathe deep.
Trying to keep quiet while people are asleep.
Biting my lip hard, tasting blood on my lips.
Caressing open wounds with rough fingertips.
Slowly opening my eyes, taking in what I see.
Wondering what the cost is to finally be free.
Splashing water on my face to clear my head.
Thinking of the thoughts that remain unsaid.
Walking the dark paths that run through my mind.
That one special place that no one else can find.
Crawling into bed, pulling the covers up tight.
Telling myself that everything is alright.
But the truth is known, a secret not to be told.
Now waiting for the next night to slowly unfold.