Joshua P. Johnson
X-ray
Every scan of my brain,
I hope to see something wrong.
A sign to show me that its not who I am, but something I’ve become.
Looking for something to show me that this isn’t all my fault,
Yet every scan has me healthy.
Right as rain.
Good to go.
A picture of perfect health.
If I’m so God damn healthy, then why do I feel this way?
Why do I see a monster in the mirror every single fucking day.