The twin thing

I try to write with the pen and
it’s like I’m cutting my arms again
getting rid of the pain
is just
ripping me apart

someone over there says,
‘are you alright?’
I’m alright
and Jackie’s okay
or she was when I saw her
yesterday in the mirror,
but don’t tell her

she gets mean and I mean
real mean
like mad mean
and I mean
am I that bad?

it’s always the two of us unless
she takes over and then I go under
wonder why she does that?

Nothing is simple
nothing’s ideal and
sometimes I think
everything is unreal

she doesn’t like us thinking like that
I mean really doesn’t like it
last time I thought like that
she bit my lip so hard
I cried.

I tried again with the pen when she was sleeping
two lines
only two lines
then she woke and
I went under

© 2016, John Smallshaw.