Its Getting Harder to Breathe

Fake

You think I'm stupid

You think I'm annoying

You think I want attention

You think I do it for fun

You think I want you to care

Do I?

Do I run in my room,

And close the door behind me,

Then lock it so no one comes in,

Then turn on the shower so no one hears me

Scream into endless pain as I wash that pain down the drain,

Just because I want your attention?

Do I pick up the glistening object

Then hold it to my body

Then slowly but deeply etch into my skin

All of my troubles

Then do it again but deeper,

And deeper,

And deeper,

Lashing my skin,

Again,

And again,

And again.

Until no more room is left on that arm.

That once skin colored arm is now crimson.

I have to run up my elbow,

Past my arm,

Cover my stomach,

And paint my legs

With my sickness.

Why do I do it?

I tell that to no one.

Am I an attention seeker?

Do I ever show you my problems?

Or am I always wearing pants, hoodies, and long sleeved shirts?

Or do I always flinch when you touch me?

Like you're acid to my skin.

Like you will feel my problems from under my four layers of clothes.

Like you will mock me and shun me if you knew.

What would I tell you?

I tell no one.

I keep my troubles to myself, hoping not to infect anyone

With my disease that is an addiction.

FAKE?

No.

No.

No.

NO!

I am not ever fake.

I will never be fake.

But I just wish I could stop, but this ever so enticing problem has overtaken my body.

I don't control it anymore.

It controls me.

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Hi I'm Crystal. "It's Getting Harder to Breathe" is my poem book. One poem per "chapter." Comment please. Thank you very much for reading! ❤