On the surface,

I am a daisy,

swaying in the

soft Summer sun.

On the surface,

I am the laughter

of children at play.

On the surface,

I am the piccolo

playing the

happiest of

melodies

to a jovial crowd.

 

I paint a happy picture

on the surface,

but not many know

what lies under

my weary

flesh and bones.

 

Inside, I am

the wild animal

that ravenously eats

that little daisy.

Inside, I am

the clouds

that rain on the

children’s parade.

Inside, I am

the debris

lodged inside that piccolo

so it can play no more.

 

Inside, I am

a freak,

a psycho,

a monster,

me.

 

Years of

lying,

crying,

dying,

complying,

trying,

have cracked my marble sculpture

into a broken mass of hate.

 

I’ve waltzed with the knife

more times than I can count,

and my, oh my,

is he a fine dancer.

 

The bottle of pills

calls sweet nothings

in my sleep.

I try my best

to ignore her,

but that stubborn bitch

always gets her way.

 

I keep this side of me

locked tight in a cage

within the walls of

my heart.

But after all these years,

maybe it’s time to

pull back the curtain.

Maybe it’s time

to unleash her,

and show the world

 

who I really am.