Literature
Beyond Help.
I am my own hell,
I can't escape from,
I am everything I hate,
everything I despise,
I cannot run, or hide,
for how could one
hide from their own eyes,
sometimes I wonder,
who I am when
I look in the mirror,
I see a pale girl,
but inside I know
she's tormented,
twisted, terrified,
of herself,
everything she is,
Do not try to help me,
for how can you help
a soul that cannot
even help itself?
A soul that is this
twisted is beyond help.