I am twisted. A ghost. Sometimes I don’t even bother with the mask.
It is not necessary. When everyone
Sees through my walking death.
You know me as I was.
I am returned; not even half.
The pain tears at me. Relentless, strangled, breathless.
I loathe her.
If you will not release me, let me feel the high numbness.
This is not living. This is not a life.
This is terrifying, excruciating, torturous,
Ribbons of silky black liquid envelop me,
While I am encouraged to seek comfort from their warmth.
I am frozen. Here.