I feel like I am trapped in my own thoughts,
wanting to move,
to do something — anything.
But instead I lay here, my depression encasing me with chains stuck to my bed frame. Never moving, never winning.
Before it was a fight to end the sadness, and the suffering.
Now it's a battle just to feel anything even at all.
YOU ARE READING
Too much, too little, or never enough.
PoetryA collection of poetry written in reflection of a girl who is always labeled as too much, too little, or just never enough. ---------- There was a point in my existence in wish I once longed to no longer be. I tried to talk but was instead talked ov...
