The Real Me

The visions get worse when you're not around, crying, screaming, torturous visions of death on purpose, hatred and violence. How easy it is to kill creeps in, sweeping away common sense and calm. Overtaken by dark views of normal children, smashed down, torn from parents, swept away by torents. Nowhere to turn but you, nothing calms me more, keeps my thoughts clear. Am I more than one, am I someone else when you're not here, who will save me when you're gone, if I can't save myself. The visions get worse when night comes around, bleeding, cursing, clear as day thoughts of how to cause harm, death, violence. How easy it would be to just pull the trigger, push off the edge. Overtaken by thoughts drumming my mind in a beat faster and faster, no way to stop the pain. Nowhere to run but to you, into your arms, into peace, am I one who has no control, one who needs your boundaries to keep me under control? Will I ever know the real me? Don't worry, I am fine, written for a writing assignment where my character assignment was a dual personality with one as a serial killer.