Devil in the details: confessions of her struggle

Do you have anything
to say? I do. I guess this is
how I am. Everything
reappearing. Voices

and images, people who
hate me. Real to me.
Can you see? At least
I had a few  years  of living.
Images I hoard

letting roots grow. Sometimes
emerging behind my eyes
and other times a silent movie
unfolding, capturing me.
I want to talk

To you. No one else
wants to know. I can’t
blame them. I don’t as well.
Once upon a time i
thought I could be that
person gathering people’s thoughts.
Now I gaze
too deep
drowning.

I have no bone to lift me.
I have you and I have
him and he needs me. He
can’t be a thinker and
just wants me to be dead.
If he knew my thoughts
he would leave. I can’t
bear to know I am the slayer.

I do listen. To you. I don’t like
knowing I am lost.

Poetry

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