This is Me
I wish you could hear the words the rest in the hidden depths of my mind. You would be taken back and shocked, how can a human be so consumed with self-loathing and misconceived anger.
I wish you could know the grief of a broken mind. I wish you could know insanity, what it really means to be crazy. I can't trust myself, so in turn others cannot trust me. So I sit in total isolation in the back corners of my mind, fearing my own breath. The night is my fear and my salvation.
When I sit all alone with nothing but myself-nothing but my insanity-my mind in panic wanders to its hidden places. I see visions, both disturbing and beautiful. I see a woman with a white dress, and a creature shielded in black. They both our there and they both do not speak. So my mind races with escape and danger.
I'm seen as nothing more than normal, possibly eccentric, but not crazy. No one knows fear, not fear that you can't run from, fear that hides were you hide and knows every detail of your thoughts.
I can't be saved and I can't be helped, I'm just meant to continue to exist. Hope is shattered every time I look in the mirror, and every time I speak I place one more scar on someone. My scars are both hidden and buried; no one knows what they are or what they mean. I see nothing, I hear nothing. Not when they are with me.
I'm not alive when they step forward from the shadow. I'm brutally slaughtered every time I remember who I'm not.