I used to be so honest,

and so kind. 

I can't recall where I 

misplaced my mind. 

It's got to be rotten by now, 

a blistered shadow of me, 

and so on goes this girl,

living broken, living dangerously. 

I remember aspects of 

the person I used to be;

happy, enthralling, I loved

the summer, I felt so free. 

Now I taste blood,

with heavy eyes, scared of lashing tongues.

This new version, altered, cannot take it;

I barely know how to work these battered lungs.

The mirror cannot see the changes;

same brown eyes, bruised skin, 

it cannot see the rot inside,

the spoil, the malfunction, the sin. 

My hands are mine;

these fingers speak in excuse,

but my head is a labyrinth, 

the wiring's come loose. 

How do you swallow what's happened

with a throat that isn't yours?

How do you explain your rage

when this body merely roars?

This tongue is glued to the 

roof of this mouth, aching and sure. 

I'm uncertain who I

am protecting anymore.