A True Struggle With BPD
She greets you with a smile…
Her makeup is flawless, lips perfectly curved, excitement to see you exudes from her.
“She is so happy,” they think, “what a woman!”
At every event she is quick to help, she always knows what comes next,
she has a list to guide them all in what to do.
“She has it all together,” they think, “what a woman!”
Sunday, at church, she hugs each one she sees,
she listens to the ails and prayer requests one and all, then goes to the front and sings.
“Doing God’s work,” they think, “what a woman!”
At home she takes off the perfect mask, she wishes someone would help her,
who will be here, who will pray for her?
What a woman, she thinks as she draws the razor across her skin,
what a woman, indeed.
I hide behind masks, constantly seeing to the needs of others.
Can’t they hear my screams? I’m drowning! I’m dying!
It’s just a matter of time and I’ll be gone. Won’t someone see it’s just a mask?
I’m ill, I’m not ok, but due to this illness I’m not able to say!
I do want your help but I cannot ask. Please come see me, see into my eyes, into my heart.
This razor will only be happy with skin for so long, one day soon…