The truth

The truth is,
it’s me.

I’m shattered.

There is no one
to pick up the pieces.

Maybe if I showed
my edges
you could piece me

together.
An impossibility.

All you see is
broken.

I want someone
to see me.

But you see
right through me.

The truth is,
it’s me

I cut
deep;
in my dreams,
I’m gasping for air.

The blood,
it pours.

Stained,
a red flag.