i'm falling
Never stopping for a breath.
they wont let me out of here
thats the only thing i can trust
this feeling
of being trapped
them,
the voices
I believe in what I hear
i know I shouldn't
I might get worse
than that time
late july
but they're so convinving
how could I not?
they keep telling me
the things I see
and for a moment i was blind
but now i see what they mean
I truly see what my reflection in the mirror is.
Ugly. Fake. Dead. Fat. Bad skin.
YOU ARE READING
2 am
PoetryTW:// DEPRESSION AND SELF-HARM, SOME TALK OF DEATH This book isnt something you'd want to read. I hope it isn't. It's just a piece of my mind shoved onto paper
