every time I shower, they watch me.
they watch me as I scrub away my mistakes
and whatever I did the night before
also, the marks
and the bruises
and maybe even, no, defintley, the blood that
trails down my body.
they smirk and laugh
as I attempt to cry.
but they know that there are no tears left
inside of my lifeless body anymore.
they speak soothing letters.
almost like soft purrs of k's, i's, l's, m's, and b's.
weird combination,
I know.
but that's what they say.
they spit their foul letters at me as they spell out
words across my naked body,
saying the same **** things
over and over and over and over
again.
they know me like I know the numbers now.
they watch the trail of blood and
they kindly accept the inevitable:
I will probably die in front of them one day.
the same place that has become my hope,
my love, my fear, my ecstasy.
the faces mock me.
but the thing is,
they don't even know that they're the ones who are
stuck in the marble, not me.
I can get out at any time.
I can walk out,
dry off,
and fall into a bright day
and a quiet night.
they can't walk away.
they can't hide.
they can't change.
but me?
well...I'd say I'm ever-growing, ever-changing,
into the one I'm supposed to be.
the one I'm meant to be.
the faces can smirk and laugh all they want,
but I'm not the one who is stuck anymore.