The Poetry of Joelle Birknes

To hell and back, too many times to count
Blank stares and glassy eyes
Who is this person who stares back at me in the mirror
Is the old person still in there, just a little, a tiny amount?

I recall the height of my youth, and the fear of the end
Thinking how leaving this world
Was my one absolute fear, my love for life boundless
How could it possibly be now I see it as my only friend?

I *do* remember that woman, once vibrant witty and fun
She lives no more
In her place stands a robot of sorts, who goes through the motions.
Who's only true solace, is a piece of metal, in the shape of a gun.

You ask me why such a drastic change, where did the old me go
the answer so simple it's almost funny
Still nobody able to comprehend, the deep, dark depths of pain
I refuse to cry and scream, and give The Beast a show

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