I feel so out of place,

Hate my body, voice and face.

I don't know how I got here,

Not this place, this point in life,

Sitting in psych ward, at night, and cry.

I want to run away, to pack my stuff and flee,

I want to be normal, I want to be free.

Away from these faces I see in my nightmares,

They puncture my thoughts with daggers and spears.

I thought these voices were friends, until they betrayed me,

Told me to bleed and told me to off me,

I never did, but sometimes I tried,

In the middle I stopped, broke down and cried.

Who would care if I died now today?

"Somebody would." Is what my therapists say.

But who? What friends? Which family?

The ones I still had left, proved that they don't care.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone would notice if I just ran away?

Or would it just be another day?

For the people I loved, and cherished so deeply.

Guess I'm just another name in their book of countless side characters.

So why should I stay?

Just to die and rot away?

Why not just run out of the doorway?

"It's dangerous!" they say,

But you can loose anything, if you don't have anything.

January 4th 2022