No matter how hard I try to run away,
no matter where I hide, there he’ll be.
Insulting me.
Mocking me.
Writhing like a worm on hot pavement,
I will scream in anguish and pain as those memories find me again.
Nightmares, crying, and sweat.
Depression.
The voice.
That voice in my gut telling me NO, not today.
I cut myself, I bled for love, I am bipolar.
What is wrong with me.
Drama.
Drama pulling me deeper and deeper under water,
my lungs, deprived of air, collapse, and my spirit is broken.
Broken like glass, jarred and crooked.
Sharp edges glaring at me.
Staring into my soul.
Cuts, crooked lines in my flesh.
Beading drops of scarlet,
Draining, dripping, dimming.
The lights slowly darkle.
Dimming then darkness, I fade.