I don’t let what people say
affect what I do.
But the looks on their faces
still creep into my vision
and my imagination
is good at speaking for them.
At night, the images seep into my body,
playing in slow-motion, across my unconscious mind.
And I keep hearing their thoughts,
until they burn through my ears.
The video player of my mind
plays so much, it overheats.
And the words they once said
are branded onto my mind,
like the scars on my wrists,
that were caused by their thoughts
that perhaps didn’t exist.
But their words don’t affect me,
not even a little bit.
And I still don’t look in the mirror.
Because they’d never shut up.