There Is A Place Inside My Head

There is a place
inside my head
that's warped the image
of my life.

In that place,
that blissful, lovely place
I don't hate myself
for being what I am
and why I am this way.

In that place,
I am happy.
My family loves me.
They don't blame me at all,
for living, for breathing
for being what I am
and why I am this way.

In that place,
My dad doesn't think
everything is my fault
My mom doesn't think
I want her to die
My brother doesn't think
I'm ungrateful and selfish
My sisters don't think
I'm unfeeling and sick.

In that place,
I feel loved and forgived.
I do not hate myself
or cry, or feel sad
or swallow my frustration
or drink my tears.

There is a place
inside my head
I am not alone.
I am not pushed away,
I am not left in the dark
with light shining
from the crack in the door
that I can't open.
I don't have the key.

There is a place
inside my head
where my name is not
erased from the world
where my entire life
is not wasted
and thrown carelessly
swallowed into the abyss
of the blackness of my heart.