I find jealousy in the smallest of things.
From the way she inhales to the way she says hello.
I know ill never be like her.
Ill never be like her.
Ill never be as pretty and ill never make people laugh the way she does...
At the end of the night we deal with the same demons.
Insecurity.
But...
What I would do to walk around in her skin.
The one that I love tells me that I'm perfect and he loves me everyday...
I ask myself.... could I make him love me more?
Just less food and more self hatred would go a long way.
Jealousy.
I know now I could never be beautiful...
Funny.
Skinny
Or ****.
The mirror has shown me that.
ill never be like her...

To feel the shame of another day?
To ask yourself if it was really worth it?
What did I do wrong this time?
I cant feel my own pulse..
Am I still alive?
Should I say I'm sorry?
But for what?
The demons that fill my mind?
They weren't the ones who made me do it.
My wrist throbs, time after time again..
Begging for the bite of a blade.
I promise again and again that I wont...
This time a different story..
I feel my pulse for the first time it seems.
Now do I truly know the sweet relief of death..

Sorry I deleted one poem