not much better...

i finch at the slightest touch of 
strangers’ hands 

and I shiver in 75 degree weather

I have had three hours of sleep

in the past 72 and

everything is starting to blur,

running together like crayola paint

in a rainstorm

And they say I’m getting better but

my scars are just inverted and

healing in reverse

and my veins pump razor blades

through my body slicing me open

from the inside out

I wake up and

at the occasional glances

in the mirror each day,

I see the girl I never wanted to turn into 

and the half-moons under my eyes

grow more shadowed each day 

from the darkness that is accumulating

in my soul and seeping out of my bones

like bruises under the skin