Shame is a friend,
Just not a good one.

He’ll speak truth, like
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“There will be consequences.”
But He’ll always take it too far.
“They’ll never forgive you.”
“You deserve to die.”
“Go get the razor.”

He’ll tell you to shave your head
Because you don’t deserve to have hair.
He’ll guide the razor blade
Along your skin.
Your hand in His,
It feels right, if even
For a moment.

As you’re cleaning the aftermath,
There’s still a stain.
A stain in your mind.
Like red wine on a white shirt.
His smile cracks wide open
As the walls close in.

“Feel better?”
You nod,
Your heartbeat in
Your ears.
Anything to make
Him go away.

But that’s the thing.
He looms larger now.
He’s not going anywhere.
You’ve made a blood pact.

How do you ****
A giant in your head?
You don’t.
You just ignore it.
You drown out
His voice with your
Favorite songs.
You tell yourself
The shadows are
Playing tricks on you.
You dye your hair.

Sometimes the shadows are just too big.
Sometimes you feel a cold
Hand on your shoulder.
Sometimes your (real) friends are having a
Bad day and you want to get the razor.
You hear a whisper.
“It’s all your fault.”
You put in your earbuds
And look at the sun.

You want a better ending.
Something hopeful.
Something whole.
But you won’t lie.
You open your notes app:

Shame is a friend
You’re better off without.