I am my own nightmare.

I walk alone.
Down an empty coradore.
My steps echoing.
Blood.
Trickling down the palm of my hand,
Dripping of my finger tips.
I turn into a room.
Surrounded by mirrors.
I stand staring.
Looking myself over.
Ripped jeans.
Blood soaked shirt.
Pale face.
Alone.
I picture myself back then.
Happy, content.
Beautiful.
Alive.
So full of life and love.
Full of beauty and grace.
I see myself now.
Sad, depressed.
Ugly.
Dead.
Filled with hatred and regret.
Filled with vile thoughts and horrid dreams.
I am my own nightmare.