1-1-16 fourty days clean
The bathroom is a place of true darkness;
Its walls have witnessed warm blood running down my arm,
Showers so hot they burn my skin,
And all the meals I forced out of my system.
The mirror always used to scare me into thinking it'll show me a ghostly figure that I care not to witness so it's covered by a blue towel now.
But that doesn't quite send them away from the dirty tiles of this room for today I hear a deep, demonic voice, seemingly coming from every inch of the space.
"DOES YOUR REFLECTION SCARE YOU? IS IT NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE? HAHAHA YOU IDIOT! YOU'RE WORTHLESS. YOU CAN'T EVEN WRITE POETRY GOOD ENOUGH TO BE ANYTHING TO ANYONE. YOU'RE FAT AND UGLY AND COMPLETE TRASH. BUT NO MIRROR WILL SHOW YOU THAT. YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE YOU'RE MORE THAN THESE WORDS OF TRUTH. WHY DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE ALL OF YOUR FLAWS AND JOIN ME? I'LL BRING YOU TO REALITY.. COME WITH ME AND GOD HIMSELF WON'T RECOGNIZE YOU. STOP LIVING A LIE."
The towel is thrown off of the mirror, although I see nothing peculiar about its image. I've been trying the door for the entirety of the time 'it' was talking but only now does it work. I run out and sit down on a dusty chair, still covered in plastic wrap.
My hands are shaky and my vision blurs, screwing up my sight of beige carpet below me. I think I'm gonna be sick.
I come to the conclusion that it's a figment of my imagination- that, secretly, deep down, those were just my thoughts presenting themself to me. That can't be real. Nothing was even in the mirror.
I need a way out. I can't take any more of this.
- (m.m)
This is really dark oooops
YOU ARE READING
Haunted (Poetry)
PoetryInside of my head lies rooms of emotions, and stories. I don't own this empire of a hotel on my own, though. If you listen and look closely, you'll find blood within every shade of red, ghosts in every mirror, and screams in every ballad. I'm haunte...
