My life,
a printed two-sided page,
one side sunrise,
turn it over and you see the bipolar
hidden underneath my sleeves:
self-harm.
Cuts coagulate into chaos and
blood crumbles into cookie crumbs
all over the bathroom floor,
a sugar rush surging me awake towards
my world beyond reality until
I bleed to death,
it’s sunrise again.
I close my shutters
and shudder at the sight of outside.
The heat of the sunlight feels too real.
It burns my paper skin.