Labels (Which Is Better?)

"Who is this person before me?"

I whisper to the mirror.

The one with the tears climbing on the weathered skin.

The one with the mascara running down the hills of the land.

The truth has come out.

Everybody knows my problems.

Everybody knows what I do when the stars shine brightly.

As the crystal wonderland shatters the silence

I watch the liquid spill out, the "paint" is silky

The truth has come out.

I am no longer a robot.

I am FREE, my burdens are out in the open.

Like the scars on my body, like the scars on my soul.

I hid because I was too fucked up.

So I took the pills, I took the sex, I took the blade

and ripped my body open when no body was looking.

I ripped open my mind and had a break from reality.

"Feed the girl the pills, feed her until shes too fucked up

to realize what is going on with her."

they whisper behind my back.

I hear them.

I see them.

They are normal.

and im the "sick" one.

Now that I'm out and "free"

I now have a new label.

The Mentally Ill.

The Abused.

The Drug Addict.

The Suicidal Girl.

Which is better?

Living a lie?

Or everyone knowing your secrets?

#Slam Behind the Curtain.


Guide that inspired this poem: 


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