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My Other Half
sometimes i wish it would stop.
all of it.
or at least slow down.
its spinning too fast
much too fast to keep up.
some days are worse than others.
its just questions.
why am i here?
why her? and not me?
i never was the special one.
but there are other days
when i look in the mirror
and feel hate.
pure hate.
the knives slash,
blood stains the carpet,
and tears wash it clean.
a splash of cold water.
this is nothing like
what she wanted.
were not rich.
were not famous.
im not sane.
and shes not even alive.
