There's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.
The tears just don't like my eyes. And my mind
is tired of developing blurry pictures -
its such a waste of energy.

My shadow sits against the wall wondering when
I'll hand her off to a decent conversationalist,
even though walls will never talk and floor boards
just complain. I know it's all fun and games to you,
to them, to everyone else, but my mind just can't
pick up on that - just can't grasp why something
so cruel could ever be so funny. There's a person
stuck in the mirror staring back at me,
they say it gets better, but they've got the devil's
famous grin buried beneath countless layers of
make up and lies.

That stupid voice in my head, the one deeper than my own,
the one everyone knows to ignore - everyone that is but me,
reminds me just how tiny i am in this great big world. It's like
my mind doesn't know when to stop, the pain brings more pleasure
than the strangers calling me pretty as they offer to
buy me some fruity drink down the block (I love the look
on their faces when I end downing **** stronger than their own.)
there's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.

I just woke up today and realized that i'm not who I thought I was.

That I'm not who you think I am.

I am just another
impostor
in your bed.