They reminded you
that you are still here,
still one with the livings,

and now you sleep
with a knife in hand
to feel safer from the ghosts
that perch on your bed

And later you will use that
knife ‘cause you will never
be safe from your ghostly self

And on a bleak morning you
will search your bed for that
knife with your scarred wrists

You see,
you have already swallowed that knife
after years of starvation, but you still
couldn’t satisfy your hunger  

It is now stuck in your throat
along with every lingering word
you buried inside your foreign heart,
and now it cuts from under your skin

And this is why you have no tears
And this is why you cannot sleep
And this is why you hate love

You teared yourself apart,
and forgot that you could heal