if I walked away,
and never looked back, would you try to walk in front of me?
try to face me,
try to see into me.
if I was successful in your eyes, would you still compare me?
tell me about their kids,
their cars, their homes, their monies.
would you remind me of their successes, if you were happy with yours?
if you were happy with yours, would I have daydreamed about clouds,
clouds with a sky so bright, birds chirping while the sun shines so bright.
so bright that I did not see the blade,
i just felt it sweetly brushing against my wrist,
i just felt myself push it into my skin.
how good it felt, when I felt the gush of crimson red, saintly liquid,
flow out of my porcelain sixteen-year old skin.
this feeling has never left me
the feeling of never being good enough.
always been a part of me, right besides me,
like a toxic partner,
whispering falsified words in my ear,
magnifying those words into a poisonous spiral of inconspicuous thoughts,
not good for me.
penetrating through my body,
constantly reminding me of how,