i am not trying to be dark.

 evil as a metaphor for things once learned, now forgotten, 

give me my plate and let me die! 

it doesn't hurt enough to curse the ground you stand on, 

but I'm going to anyway

projection as a method of escape- 

if i am him, then I am someone at last, 

then I have a reason for my actions

then I have an audience vindicating me

identifying with what you hated once 

as a metaphor for unlearning self-hate, 

as an unwinding of old chains and binds, 

and I am everything my younger self despised

my younger self, dead, as a metaphor for nothing, 

her pain meaningless, her body prone, lying over the sink, 

he loved me, and I was whole, but without him, 

there's just a corpse

and nothing romantic about it

 

existing, in spite, as a flock of birds, 

flying upwards as you make the hated trek again, 

upwards, always upwards, 

and never down, 

the climb isn't worth the fall

 

staring with fifteen year old wonder

at swirling blood, 

my ears ringing, 

words someone i loved once said, 

i accepted everything about you because i loved what i wanted you to be 

it isn't enough to want to be somebody

 

enduring my chains as a metaphor for strength, 

but I'm sitting at the feet of the devil, 

and there's a desperation that brings

an ugliness to all my features, 

six years in hell

as punishment for the woman I killed.  

will she ever forgive me, 

I wonder?