my skin doesn't feel like my own and i'm an intruder in this body. my bones do not belong under this skin this blood i bleed is not mine. i am laying awake in bed in a cell that i can't escape. a prison where i have done nothing wrong and served the harshest of penalties. i am destroying a body that isn't my own. how selfish. this is not mine to starve this is not mine to tear to pieces. when i cry tears fall down a face i do not recognize. my mirror is showing a reflection that is not what i look like. everyone is telling me that i am me and i have always been me but i am not. years ago my eyes had not sunk to the back of my skull and my hands did not shake as i held a pen. my skin was not lined with scars and my lips did not taste like blood. i did not scratch at my skin until it was raw and bleeding i did not cry until there were no tears left and my eyes were empty of sadness. i did not feel this great emptiness in my chest. i did not feel like my body is not my own. but now i do.
this is not my own.
YOU ARE READING
To the Moon and Back
PoetryPoems and short stories and stuff I honestly can't write why are you reading this
