I'm trapped inside
Behind my persona
Behind my pride.
No one looks me in the eye
Except one.
If only he'd thought to look lower.
Above my hand,
Below my elbow.
But why would he?
I've never told him to.
I learnt the hard way that no one can find out.
But sometimes I wish they would.
So I won't be so alone anymore.
Which is why when I saw the signs in another
I trusted her, as she trusted me
I taught her, as she taught me
I accepted her, as she accepted me.
That crazy little kitten.
That psycho goth.
An unlikely pair.
But no one thought twice when we went bracelet shopping.
Or when we wore long sleeves.
Or shirts that came to below our hips.
And then another showed up.
She hid it very well.
She was the golden girl.
She was the one who made it shine.
She was the best.
But it wasn't enough for her.
I hated her at first.
Until her bracelet fell off her skinny wrist.
And then her sleeve fell down her thin arm.
And then her too small shirt rode up, exposing her bony hips.
And then we were stuck in an RV and she sweated her makeup off.
And I passed her some foundation and concealer from her sister's bag.
And her eyes went wide.
And I tapped a finger to my lips.
Because no one could ever know.
Because she was the golden girl.
And she was the one who made it shine.
And she was the best.
That was how it worked.
That was how it should stay.
And even though we didn't acknowledge it, that was what happened.
And we became closer.
And I made a new friend- sort of.
But we never try to stop.
This is how we cope.
The kitten needs a way to deal with her problems.
Her brother (she has to look after him).
Her illness (she's bipolar).
Her demons.
And the golden girl needs a way to deal with hers.
Her parents (her mom is screwing her dad's partner).
Her sister (she needs constant admiration, even though she has no talent).
Her demons.
And the psycho goth needs a way to deal with hers.
My father (he's never even there, not that I'd want him to be).
My walls (I don't mean to, but I shut people out, only those two have come close to being let in).
My demons.
And we hope to one day heal.
But we press the blades to our wrists.
Because today is not that day.