It's only the beginning of the end.
Or is it the end of the beginning?
It's too small,
This room I'm hiding in.

Hiding? Hiding from what?
Myself.
The world.
Myself.

The medicine is bitter,
It's all I taste now.
Your stale kisses mean nothing to me.
I'm in my quiet room.
No one exists.

You could try,
Try.
To save me.
You'll fail.
The cuts too deep,
Hunger too extreme.

I'm gone.
My quiet room is all I have left.
But OH!
The smallest sliver of doubt slides in.
It bleeds.
Multiplies.

Alas,
Now I know I'm surely mad.
For only someone mad
Would have a mind that attacks it's quiet place.
I'm mad.
I'm done.

Sometimes…
I pretend I'm dead.
If I lay still,
And be very, very quiet,
I'm no longer there.

It's bliss,
Laying here,
Dead like this.
It's better,
Than facing the masquerade of reality.

It's better than
Lies.
A plastic disguise.
An ugly face,
A fat disgrace.

I can pretend,
That I'm real.
I can feel.
I'm perfect.
Not a defect.

But then,
Comes the waking up.
I'm back.
To being,
Me.

It's interesting.
When you can have my body,
You love me.

But when…
I'm lost in my own mind,
You are gone.

It makes me wonder.
What made me think I deserved you?
Was I actually that dumb?

Silly me.
Thinking I could be loved…
Won't happen again.