My personality, a blade of two sides,
An instrument of darkness, that never subsides,
With every pull, the wound it deepens,
The more I tug, the more my spirit weakens.

I try to sheath it, keep it confined,
But the blade emerges, a constant grind,
The more I push, the more it cuts,
And those around me, their blood it sucks.

I yearn to connect, to share my pain,
But the edges cut, leaving a bloody stain,
And those I care for, they feel the sorrow,
As I struggle with this blade, no tomorrow.

It’s a never-ending battle, a constant plight,
To keep the blade sheathed, away from the light,
To find a way to balance the scales,
And let my true self die, without leaving any trails.

For while the sword may bring harm,
It’s also a source of great alarm,
A curse, a burden, a darkness within,
A gift that I must learn to shun and win.

So I’ll keep on wielding, learning to cope,
With this double-edged sword, my only hope,
To find a way to let go of this pain,
And share my light, without leaving a stain.