Sweet Whispers
It’s hard to picture life without you.
You engulf me in your misery and blood.
You try to make me end my life.
Yet, you are so familiar,
so comfortable.
I know the feelings that you force well.
You slash my forearms, and burn my shins.
I find no pain in this.
You cause the initial pain, then hurt me to help make it better.
It’s a strange cycle you make me go through,
sometimes I don’t quite understand.
Why did you choose to infest my body? To make me your home?
I was only a child. Less than ten years old.
You came to me.
Whispered disturbing things to me in my sleep.
Invaded my sweet dreams with sweet whispers of death.
A painless death.
I’m sixteen now,
and I’ve never stopped thinking about that first dream.
I dread my birthday every year.
It’s hard to picture my life without you.
