i'm clean, i tell them
they smile
they tell me they're proud
they tell me that i'm a fighter

but when i say i'm clean
it implies that the rest of me has always been
*****

that the girl with faded scars
and an empty heart
and a full head
was filthy

i admit
my life has become an
endless blur of days
and nights
conversation i never had
and poems i have yet the strength to write.

Nightmares hurt.
The emotional pain,
and the physical pain.
I can't count
how many times
I've woken up
to be
haunted by
my own
mind
and what
I think of.
I can't even
imagine
the times
I've woken up
with a
headache,
a heartache,
or both.
I can't begin
to reason
why my mind
has such a
vivid
perception
of what
a gunshot
feels like.
Or what
drowning
would be like.
But I've
dreamed them
so many
times,
It feels
like I've
lived them.
And please don't think
for a second
that's every
night.
There are the
good dreams
too.
The happy ones
where
everything
is alright.
But those hurt
way more.
Because
when I wake up,
I can
feel them being
torn away
by Morning.