I am a murderer.
Clenching my fists,
I made a bed
And killed myself in it.
Sheets that once held goodnight kisses
And rosy morning cheeks
Fell victim to restless legs,
Twisted in agony.

I am a hunter.
Following my own track marks,
I shot myself down.
I kissed each vein
With the tongue of a syringe
And purged its belly
Until a brown river
Emptied into my blood.

I am a dying woman.
Hanging my heavy head
Over  crumpled green towel,
I collapsed on a carpet covered in clothes
That were hastily stripped off and tossed aside.
I knelt amongst the tattered tees
And the grass stained denim
That reeked of slow defeat.

I am a prisoner.
Pulling my curly hair
Taut in tired fists,
I freed every bit from my scalp.
Running blades across my skull,
I nicked my tender skin
Like dancing through a rose garden
Until there was nothing left but raw flesh.

I am a thief.
Staring at a stranger’s reflection,
I saw body bags beneath her eyes
And lids that closed like coffins.
A ghostly girl,
A stolen soul,
A blank mask,
A hood of bone.

©Jenna Allie