the day i was born;
a fiend was born too
not i;
but the girl in the mirror
who is always
scrutinizing every
single flaw
of mine
trying to tear apart the soul
inside
in half-hearted attempts
to tear apart the skin
the skin
the skin that i am still trying
to love
the porous
the flawed
the scarred and stretched
skin that
has only ever loved me
and protected me
but she;
cannot understand that
and continues to
relish in trying to destroy
the body that is
constantly striving to
survive
in a world that will
poke and prod at you
with hot hot iron
and she;
tries to get me to
believe that
skin should be porcelain
and that because she
does not love me
that no one ever will
but she is only a voice;
although
she was once louder
than the roar of the sea
she is now
nothing more than that;
just a voice
closer to a whisper
drowned out by the sounds
of me piecing myself back together
for the final
time
-n.c
