MyMindIsAHouseOfMirrors

I've come to terms with
The fact that in my dreams
I am dying. Past Tense.
I am simply someone else.
This gives me peace.
I am only me in my
Nightmares, facing my
Scars and the parts of
Me that I fear.
I have had enough of me.
My mouth is full of 
Stitches from chewing on
The singular thread of my
Sanity. Bitter slivers of desire
Piercing my tongue, the taste of 
Burnt sugar from my wasted
Creativity. I am disgusted with
Myself. I see scar tissue all over
But feel it is never acknowledged.
Irony.
Everyone wants me to be someone
Else, Little do they know...