Inside

I’m dying inside,

I’m dead.

I’m captivated by your lack of a reflection, and I see myself,

I do recognize the picture in front of me,

It’s me,

Only dead.

I’m not afraid of feeling this way,

I’m not afraid.

I have never been afraid,

Yet you are,

And yet here I am,

Still breathing in fake air and blowing out

Smoke,

A slow limited death,

Because I move and turn and talk

And thank everyone for their cooperation

And how my own limited view on the world

Is captured,

Captured in that lense of time and fear,

Only for the actual picture, the snapshot

To show a well rounded mother and supportive friend.

I feel that heavy pain in my heart, making me nervous and nauseous,

A dysphoria of body,

I cannot be my own movements,

They become me.

My very movements give me the implication of living,

Yet I am not.

I am dying,

Breathing life into my loved ones, the last bit of

Dreams that I can dream.

I’m screaming with sound into a watery film,

A film which seems to only

Have the reels of the most fun me,

And everyone is watching,

Pretending to not see the extended cut

Of my heart in the drain.

I’m dying,

Not lost anymore,

I’m trying,

I won’t quit.

My heart is still alive,

My thoughts new.

I’m dying, dying,

I cannot get you to see

The truth.