Petrified of what I'm becoming
Petrified of what I have become
Petrified when I have friends
More petrified when I have none.
Scared of what I am
Scared of what I'm not
I'm scared of too many things
I'd rather not live at all
Too many thoughts occupying my mind
I can't take this anymore.
I'm tired of everything
I need sleep but I'm too awake
I'm haunted by all I've known
Everytime I close my eyes
You know what my eyelids show?
Grotesque faces, warped animals, especially insects
Dead, bloodied things all plied neatly in a mess
Organs, eyeballs and limbs
And guess where they rest.
Right up here,
In my mind,
They have made a nest.
I just can't understand,
Is this supposed to be a twisted test?
Because I'd rather fail
Than to compete
I'd rather lose hope
Let myself be beat
Than to deal with this
Daily battle against myself
One where I'm never winning
Even though I have help
For what's the point of winning
When I come out, dead and scarred?
YOU ARE READING
Wanderers
Poetry" She was written poetry While He was just a draft Combined together They couldn't have made art For one didn't rhyme with the other And sadly Both weren't in sync together. " (This is the first official book I've posted on wattpad and intended to k...
