i am a shadow.

she whispers so loud.
in my head.
i just want to sleep, but she wont let me.
i want to cry, but there is nothing within me left to mourn my losses. nothing left of me that feels emotions other than repulsion and fear.
there is a voice in my head.
a voice that sounds like me, but it isn't me.
it is a fake. a fabrication. something that was created, not born.
and she asks me:
'am i the creation or are you?'
i cannot honestly anwser her. i once believed i was truth, light and purity, but now i know i am just a shadow.
that i am her shadow.
a parasite on her.
a reflection.
an illusion.
i m not real. i am her toy, her puppet. nothing more than a doll to play with.
and oh how she loves to make me dance.
she likes to make me scream.
she likes to stick the pins in me.
the hot needles, black from the flame.
i used to blame god.
but now i know.
i might have well blamed the sun for light or the moon for darkness or the wind for the rain.
obsured accusations, that mean nothing,
nothing at all.
i thought i could be rid of her.
escape in the mid-day when she is weakest.
hide in the light, hide from her where she would not venture. where the shadows cannot be.
but, no matter what i try,
i know i cannot exist without her.
i cannot be, at all.

and i think that scares me most of all.


This is an original piece and as such no part, in part or whole may be used without my, Chelsea Johnson, writte permission.