Fighting Myself

I see you have returned

when the desire to die,

is stronger than

the will to live.

I could choose a remedy

but my happiness would be fake,

and to tell myself that I will thrive

but deep down know it is a lie.

I could pretend to be

someone with life,

but eventually the real me

always claims her spot.

But maybe the real me

is the one with life,

buried long ago

now fighting her way out.

Shovel in hand

I remove the dirt,

reaching in I grab her tightly

I will help her to emerge.