I'm bitter (because I want to be)

All these things I can't release
onto you
even though my brain bleeds
with these infections -
my thoughts don't understand
repose.

I said I'd never end up like
you
yet here I am,
cake crumbs in the sink,
the only difference
is that I try to hide the
disgusting parts of me,
like the retractable
razor still safely
tucked in my purse.

Of course I'm still angry -
the list keeps growing.
He never gives me
space
when all I want is to
dig an unmarked grave
so I can die in peace.
She doesn't understand
depression can visit
in episodes
or maybe I'm too afraid
to share that I'm not
suddenly cured
just because I'm off
medication.

And you, you've always
been clueless
and she says that's
how you were born
yet I wouldn't want
you to get close
even if things were
different.

I scream for all the
heavy metal in my mind,
the chaos calling me
and I want to run,
to throw everything
away,
for my mouth to refuse

anything
that could trap me
again.