Edith. E Lundstam Poems

For you, I'd bleed myself dry
You sit there and complain while I try
I loved you so much
So that I'd skin myself for a single touch
...

Why is it that I can look anywhere but the mirror?
Each and everytime, I fill wth such unending terror
My throat closing up, that mask giving out with a crack
Because that can't be me staring back
...

I hate feeling this rage.
I hate having so much in my head,
yet on the page the page, the words turn dead.
Everyone despise their mental cage.
...