In Negative

He stands in the corner
Shade a shadow of black thoughts in my head
Draws weights in my skin drawing out

Dredges of depression from the depths of my mind
I can almost make out the shape he makes when he's strong
In night or in winter, I can almost see him

The pain splits my head open
I can’t sense a path in the murky light or raging silence
He absorbs me
So sickly sweet the sound of a siren's call
Calling me to give in

Now I collapse on the other side
I did it again, didn't I?
I swung weapons, caused pain where I swore not to
Was that me or was that he?
Where does the line blur into waves?
You cast a shadow when you strike a flame

He hands me the ink of my own darkness
Black weights in my chest
I claw the skin from my arms
Oh pain rain down I repent
Am I already dead?
He hands me a knife
Killing me is just correcting a mistake
Did he think that or did I?
Which of us needs to die?
No belief in escape

The shade of me is me
'Me' is the shade of 'he'
Shadow of a doubt, of a thought, of a secret, of a lock
The presence a dull blade cuts through my heart with ease
And no one knows his name
But listen - the presence breathes
So that is why I don't call him 'it' but 'he'
He is a person, the negative of me

This poem is about: 
Me

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