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The Inner me

By jfarrell

Like Dorian Grey, my face looks normal; nothing remarkable;

My arms and torso, always hidden, would reveal a little;

But I always stay covered, I need to hide those marks of my life;

Like Dorian Gray, the inner, hidden-in-the-attic, portrait;

There my life is captured, and stored, in glorious technicolour.

The night I cut my wrists; that first overdose of sleeping pills;

My rape when I was 5; another cut, another pill;

My mum’s infidelity; another cut another pill;

Every violence by my father, everytime I was bullied at school;

Another cut, another pill.

On the outside, I am unremarkable, instantly forgettable;

But, my hidden portrait;

One look will haunt you, forever;

It’s very horror would scar you, taint you, forever.

I just wish I had the guts to live as selfishly as Dorian Gray. Sometimes.