I ask myself what I've become

And what I see myself becoming.

And then it all hits at once, the nights of constantly praying to God

that my heart stops beating, the wishing that I forget how to breathe,

the blood dripping from my inner thighs.

I am a coffin of pain.

6 feet deep in oily dirt drenched in the sweat of my ever aching heart.

I am my own worst nightmare, my deepest friend.

The only one who will comprehend the matters in my head.

Wanting to die but hoping I live through another night.

Did you not hear me when my skin screamed for a tender touch?

When my heart cried to be tended to?

Did your ears not bleed when my vocal chords shredded themselves into words that you could understand?

I am lost and on my own.

My fingers lonely from not being held, my knuckles misshapen from cracking.

I am not who I wish to be.

But who my demons want me to see.

-s.w.