I am hidden.
Hiding, lurking
Deep in the darkest corner,
the saddest, weakest crevice
of your mind.
Spreading -- sickening the rest.
You're fully aware that I'm there --
I don't hide from you.
I'm too busy torturing you,
day after day.
Shifting doubt and fear
onto the simplest sentence,
the kindest comment.
Poking, prodding,
supplying crippling explanations.
Disabling you,
turning any self-esteem you could have had
into a mess, a catastrophe,
a disaster of a girl.
No,
I couldn't hide from you.

I hide from anyone else.
You try to reach out for help,
but I pull you back.
You try to explain how I work,
but I steal the words
out of your mouth.
You can't explain,
and I make sure that you don't want to,
                                                                 not really.
Because what would they think?
No one wants to know,
No one wants to have your diseased thoughts
dumped on them,
Hold it back,
Keep it in.
Keep me in.

Let me fester, infect,
every feeling.
I decay, rot.
Scarring.

Good luck getting rid of me.