if i told you, you’d go mad

a poem (escapril day six)

i bite my nails now and i lie for the fun of it. 

i lick my lips before praying, my intentions always wicked.

i’m not your little girl anymore, and i grow more and more obsessive each day. 

i’m angry, and i scream at nothing sometimes.

i find my pockets are filled with dirt, cherry pits and secrets.

i think there’s something living in the roof, but i’ve been too scared to check. 

the internet says it’s the pipes, and that houses with old bones creak. but i recognise those wails - they’re monstrous and i’ve uttered them myself. 

it’s like the time i cried in the pantry because i saw a ghost. you didn’t want to know then, and so you shouldn’t know now. 

and yes, i fib and i hate - i love trickery like all girls do. but truth be told, i still care. and so i’ll put my sanity on the chopping board if it’ll save yours.