by N. Cullen.

Created on: August 17, 2008

THIS AGAIN?

Another girl,
night,
drug,
THOUGHT
infesting my mind
but escaping my
eyes on trails
down my cheeks,
shaped by past pain,
shaded by scars.

Every day creates,
more stress,
reflected by my appearance,
a baramoter of my mind.

Depression characterizes
itselfs with sweats.
while mania prefers
suits.
Judge me; I judge you.

Black,
white,
crazy,
sane,
we can all be bad people,
and those are the ones
with which my anger dwells.

Sometimes it is my face,
staring back into black,
seeing nothing,
feeling everything.

Chest compresses.

if you smile large enough,
you can decieve the
public
into accepting imperfection.

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