I am a mad woman
Locked in the attic of my fragmented mind
Where life like images keep passing by
Is it happening or has it happened?
Is it real? Or is reality false?
I’m always in it
But never there.
Screaming nothingness with meanings
Scorned by the voices of my judgment
I have been robbed of my identity
By the urge of being more so like them.
And now I am them, but where is me?
I am a cold murderer
The culprit of my own flesh
Bloodthirsty devil with masked face,
Gloved hands and black soul
My hollow deadly eyes reflect
All that I have been subjected to.
The light rebounding off the sharp edged knife
Dances on the wall to my right
And unshed tears- fall on my bruised feet
As the knife meet her scarred flesh
For one last time.
I do not cringe. I had to kill her-
Who has been residing in my head
Since years without paying rent.
She who claims to be a creation of me
Has somehow settled on my throne
Like humans in the world of the Lord.
So why is it that I struggle to breathe
And ache where the metal kissed her skin
Why is red pooling around my disfigured black feet?
I feel my soul levitating, transcending in a different world.
I am dying, but she does not die.
If I killed her first, how did she kill me?
I wonder as the mind fades. And she evades.