Actually, I am.

                                      

                                                                        

 My head knows the art of lying.               

                          

 Telling half truths.                                          

 I can feel the world creep up on me.                     

                    

 I can feel the devil.          

                              

 Desperately trying to convince me I'm not good enough.                                          

 It likes to mention old friends,                                          

 Remind me of hurtful phrases.                                          

 Things that made me cry when I looked in the mirror.                                         

 Anything to get me to hate myself.                                          

 Anything to let darkness crawl into the space where my heart is. 

 It's amusing how our greatest enemy can be ourselves and what we choose to think.

 To cast fleeting looks at our own reflections, 

 Muttering wishes,

 Hoping maybe the imperfections will fly away. 

 I take control of my head and wrestle my thoughts,

 You aren't good enough, Satan whispers to me.

 He is such a beautiful thing, somehow we believe him like he is our close friend. 

 You aren't good enough.

 I smile with all the teeth I grew up hating.

 You aren't good enough.

 Who are you to say that? Can't I be perfect just as I am? 

 You aren't good enough.

 Maybe I'll decide that from now on.

 Now he is the desperate one.

 YOU AREN'T GOOD ENOUGH.

 Actually,

 I am. 

Photo: unkown