I faced my fears
in a bathroom mirror,
Curled my bloody fingers around their neck,
slithered down our throat.
Amongst a day’s worth of sin,
tried to find hope.
But hope is for the people who don’t truly know.
And I know.
Overindulgence is to purge.
Recovery is to relapse.
I am both the victim and the offender.
There are no witnesses.
The jury is stacked.
I plead guilty,
I walk free.
Freedom is just an ideology.
Who needs chains when you have a poisoned brain?
Who do you call if I’m the one driving the bus?
Do you know I’m still going to blame you?
I’d point fingers, but they’re usually busy cleaning up my mistakes.
Then cleaning them again.
Sometimes I forget which one is the mistake.
Cause or effect?
People say I’m seeking attention.
Maybe I am.
But I’ve never seen cameras in the handicap stall,
and I carry breath mints.
Is private yearning worse than public greed?
Selfishly wishing for anything but.
Jazmine Bowens is a junior at Butler University. She aspires to heal people for a living. By day she will do this with medicine, at night, with words.