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Rebecca Leigh Wilaby

My Strangers

I hate myself and who I am
I don't expect you to understand

There are two strangers inside of me
one is committed, the other free

The first is stable, the other-insane
one enjoys pleasure, the other loves pain

I feel like both, Jeckle and Hyde
as I fight this battle somewhere inside

Scared, I look in the mirror and I find
two different people sharing one mind

They fight day and night to see who is stronger
which one will die, which will live longer

Each of the two wants to dispose of my shell
but which will get out, even I cannot tell

Last night, this battle moved outside
and it seems I attempted to commit suicide

I clutched my knife feverishly, anticipating blood
and then, my own tears came out in a flood

I held the knife tight in my fist and then,
I began to cut the flesh from my wrist

As the blood of life poured to the ground
I let out a scream yet made not a sound

The ground drank up my blood and thirsted for more
and then, I heard a knock at my door

It was my other half, begging me for life
it tried to take away the knife

At first, it failed yet was determined to succeed
had it not won the battle, they would both have been freed

I suppose that I was destined to survive
I'm only barely living though I'm very much alive

I could go on living so much better than I've been
if only I could make friends of my strangers deep within