Why.

I am scared of myself.
In the day.
I am pretty, I am smiles, I am the girl who aids.
At night?
My skin starts itching.
Then aching.
Burning.
I don’t want to die just yet.
I break perfume bottles.
Eyeliner caps.
Anything to get the words from my head on my skin.
Nothing stops it anymore.
I stood on the roof.
Three floors up, that white concrete calling me.
I shouldn’t want to jump.
What’s wrong with me.
Why do I hate myself.
Monster.
I can’t save myself from my mind.
I am falling again.
I cut my palms then left words on my walls.
A stain to remind the demons I remember their fingers in my skin.
I remember the joints they put out on my skin.
It’s not enough to avoid food.
I lost my own period.
I’m such a animal inside. I want to rip apart the world.
People saw me covered in bruises and looked away.
Let the animals feast on my humanity.
I am a beast now.
I am empty.
I can’t care anymore. So tired of masks.
I want to pull the bad out of my skin. I want to give up.
The pills are talking to me.
The mirrors are being cruel. I need it.