I am not unusual; I do not enjoy this,
write a truth, a response, tell us how you feel;
what if I lie.

I can tell you I have gray eyes,
brown not black hair, my feet
are two big; eight and a half.
I'm an in between size, I am not
a whole.

I could tell you that I bite my nails
until they bleed; until the skin peels back
exposing pink, new flesh. That sometimes
it makes me feel better; the comforting
sting.

I could tell you that I feel guilty; for
being who I am, struggling with
all of what I know. Maybe because I
do not; sometimes, know everything.
I should have the answers to fix me; take
another pill.

I could tell you, explain that
I dream about dying; wondering if anyone
would miss me, the people that count.
I am breakable; but hard to break.
I know this.

I could tell you that I know what it feels
like to have your heart slow down; then
to have it speed back up. To be saved
by those who love you; pushing and
forcing, not at all giving,
life back.

I could tell you that I don't regret
but regret many things; tearing my own,
her own skin. Do I have a prejudice
against the cage; the skeletal system?
The lines which I exist within.

I could tell that all of these things,
exist within the lines. They are calm;
fluid movements, they know. They
understand; the truth.

I can tell you that I am seventeen.
I am healing; stitched up.
I am not like you, my truth is biased;
it relies on me to be told.
So what if I lie.