Most Days I find it hard to look in the mirror.
At times, I convince myself that nobody would miss me if I
were gone....
My scars tell stories that I wish
I could keep to myself.
I cry for no reason,
and have trouble figuring out the way I'm suppose to function,
When my mind is such a scary place.
But, I got out of bed this morning,
And that's a start.
YOU ARE READING
Anxiety
PoetryAnxiety is hard; I decided to write this 5 years ago and I rarely update. I come back to read what I had as this description, "there is no escape." I lied, there is an escape. I don't know how to feel to about this book anymore but most seem to enjo...
