Last night I looked down at my hand and saw a knife.
Then I looked in the mirror and I saw my life.
It was dripping in red down my new dress;
my eyes were black and my hair was a mess.

Then I remembered the de ja vu -
the feeling that came when I spoke to you.
It shook me so hard, made me feel raw,
so I ran to my car before anyone saw.

Earlier I was happy, laughing and talking.
All of a sudden their faces were staring and galking.
A turn in my mood and a spark in my mind -
I just need to leave this place, my life, behind.

I don't remember any pain, but it must have hurt.
The blood isn't real - the spots on my skirt.
My constant madness is killing me, though.
Tell me to leave. I'll pick up and go.

I'll listen to anyone but my crazy self.
My volition has gone; it's now on a high shelf.
Sanity covered, blackened with dust,
each scar a reminder of temporary lust.

Satifaction in a minute's time, so short,
then I'm yelling again, an anticipated retort.
Questions I can't answer on my own, though I pose them;
All the things I need to live, I incessantly oppose them.

04/07/2003

Author's Note: A dark, lonely night and a rescue by an unexpected friend produced this work.

Posted on 04/07/2003
Copyright © 2025 Nikki Rice