The Real Me

Blood drips to the floor
Don't open the door
Don't walk in and see
The real me
The me no one knows
The me that stays hidden as my false hologram grows
I set the knife on the desk
So I can watch the blood drip down my chest
I should probably stop
I should go get the mop
Then I'll have to wash my sheets
Hopefully we still have bleach
Cutting myself is like my high
But it forces me to lie
I lie about the cuts and blood on my sheets
And why my clothes are never neat
Well now I'm leaving, going to say goodnight