No, I'm not "fine."

It will pour 
out of me somehow 
In words, or in actions 
I have developed a sense
of worthlessness 
Unexplainable self-loathing
It stems from nothing 
I am my own tree 
Uprooted by the battles 
I fight with myself 
With time, I will worsen 
And wither away 
Hide away in my 
own cocoon 
You can't break 
the shell that I 
will create 
My past burdens me 
Broken and bruised 
I will withstand the 
test of time 
If I don't die 
trying
But if I do die 
I'm not sure if 
I'll mind 
And that is why 
you know I'm 
not "fine."