not one, but many

[luvpumpkin]

she is little inside of me.
but her cry is loud.

no, those aren't stretch marks on the outside
her nails scratch the inside of my belly.

i have yet to determine if she is trapped
or if she traps me.

she enjoys madness.
and sometimes she makes me like it too.

not the gut wrenching pain of being alive when someone doesn't love you; when someone you love doesn't live; when life just hurts you cuz it can...

no, madness in the purest sense.
a complete disconnect from what is considered 'reality'... the one and only reality.

my brief moments apart from ths reality are happy moments.
she and i hold hands and run through meadows and lavender fields,
orchards and corn rows.
the animals know you and the trees protect you with arms wider than your fear.

some see gnomes and fairies... i only wish to see them.
others hear pain as a sound
and pen his words like a scribe.

if hypomania left its agitated side at home
and depersonalization opened the rabbit hole just a little deeper...
perhaps i would never come home.

maybe i would stay with that little girl -
the one who cackles and giggles
follows and watches me.
hides behind trees
and stands stoic at the foot of my bed.

there are actually four of her standing there.
and four who scratch and pull from within.
often, i cannot decipher their voices...
i watch my arms do things i never told it to do.

how do i know who i am really,
if i am not one, but many?