The pain struck a chord,
a tension she felt in her back
and neck, crushing her chest.
Though she wouldn't admit it,
her characters are falling
through the hole in the wall
where the wind comes in.

And there's always a part of you
that wants to spit fists
and bleed,
and fuck,
and not indeed in that order.
So it seems to me,
I can't stare down the monster,
unless I become her.
The deepest low
I've ever known
comes crawling in the back door
hungry and impatient.
So I stand in the mirror,
waiting to witness this unknown creature,
to speak to this bastard beast,
in the dark,
and in the morning I cry slightly,
but my face still splits into a grin
as I meet the creep
for the first time:
he stands behind me laughing.

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