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WAKING RITUAL OF REPRESSING
bathroom mirror, morning reflection reminds
me that after years spent thinking, the best
thoughts I've had were ones wasted processing
all the different ways I could use a
pen to kill
someone,
literally.
rub some cold water on tingling sensation of
deflation in shaking, half-polished fingers,
watch as an empty image of me copies every
move, see it bask in knowing how predictably
petty my position on everything is; poises
and preys on being pathetic, being
empty and listless
in regard to the world.
brush my teeth and watch as few fall so in
love with life they can't help but meet paint-
stained drain, don't blink as I watch myself
wash it all away, expression unchanged as
details grow slowly, bend gently with failure,
demons in aching of broken bones and
how many times was it I escaped from homes,
delayed in growth, forever afraid there's
nobody out there who
knows me, who could ever
feel at home
with me?
turn away from mirror and hope that the image
I wrote into existence can shy away for a while, go
away to a place it can drown in denial, dictate
a destruction designed solely for
my own undoing.
burn cigarettes out against flesh of
skin, wield my pen and play out
fantasies of talent in weaponry, watch
as those around me learn
their distant place
at my side, let
the hours of shutting
off and out
define me.
- Charlotte Griffiths
Published by Charlotte E.E. Griffiths
6 years ago 
