Another crack tears through me, painting my body with more lighting-shaped scars.
I’m falling apart.
I'm crumbling,
I'm scared,
I’m breaking,
I am falling.
Falling apart, that is.
I watch as the fractures spread across my pained body, I watch them as they remind me of a river. I lively river with water dancing around the rocks, cool water washing over mud and stone. Speckled frogs amongst aquatic plants. Small fish weave through the waters, navigating it like it's what they live for, like this game of swim, dodge, follow the current is what they live for.
But rivers are for drowning. For falling into.
I was okay, I was fine for an instant, but now I know, now I remember, that I am falling.
Falling apart that is.
I am falling apart.

Paper thin lines create a web like map
of pale scars scattered across my left arm.
They trace memories of hurt and mishap,
of Oizys tormenting my thoughts with harm.

The wound’s eyes are now closed that once wept blood,
once cried and stained my sleeves with their tears.
When people stare my heart begins to thud,
as I search in their eyes for signs of fear.

And although they fade, they never leave me,
they cling to me like clothes to sweaty skin.
Reminders of what I will never be,
of standards I keep hidden deep within.

I carved to find the beauty inside me,
I searched and searched but I came out empty.

gender is so weird, I am in no way shape, or form a man but I'd rather be perceived that way- I am feminine but in such a sense that someone stating it makes me rot inside.

And yet, the female experience is so deeply rooted in my chest that I can’t bear to simply be an observer.

I am “he” not as a man but in the way you address a strange creature you find- and I am “she” not as a woman but as a feeling.

I am a brother to my siblings yet a sister to a stranger- I am a boy but I still have an ache in my bones telling me to run when alone with a man, I still have a hair tie that does not belong to me on my wrist, I still see a part of me in every girl I see walk by.

I am not blue and I am not pink. I'm not even purple, or a forest green. I think I am gray, I am what you get when you take it all away. there are only remnants of what once were, fingerprints on an empty frame. Each scratch on the frame tells a story, but none have a name.

My teeth are rotting.
My bones are sinking.
My hair is knotted and unwashed.
My stomach is hollow.

I'm wasting away, and I really should get out of this bed.
I really should brush my teeth,
Take a shower,
Go outside,
Eat some food,
Drink some water.

I'm wasting away, but this bed is warm.

I will never meet the expectations you have of me.
While I grow to reach them, they grow faster.
They grow like vines,
Twisting.
Squeezing.
Climbing.
Suffocating.
Constricting.
­They strangle me, and I cannot fight them off.
Cannot bear to appear less than them.
I.
Will.
Not.
Be.
Less.
But it seems it is too late for that.
I am always less
To you.

Why must I be
E
N
  O
   U
     G
      H
For you?

What is
E n o u g h?

I am sorry I am
Unsatisfactory.
I will change, I swear.
Let me change.
H o w
D o   I

C
H
  A
   N
    G
     E
      ?

Help me change.
Help me be who you want me to be.
Help me be the person I am not.
Help me be the better person, the other version of me.
Help me change.
HELP
ME.

Help me, so I can be good enough for you.
Good enough for them.
Good enough for myself.

consumed

Let me make you whole again.
Let my blood quench your thirst and my flesh fulfill your hunger.
Let me be part of you.

Become something other than
Something greater than
Myself.

Peal my exterior and strip me of my identity,
For I am nothing if not helpful.
Willing.
Selfless.

I must be those things because if I am not,
Who will ******* soul?
Who will find me desirable?

What am I if not consumed?