sick.

Wed, 11/03/2021 - 11:30 -- b4st4rd

jaw tight

abdomen tense

fists balled

racing thoughts

die.

die.

DIE.

i never asked for him. i never wanted him in my life.

he's so right, but he's so, SO wrong.

he twists and molds my reality

making everything seem upside down

and making me realize

 

i am the issue.

 

i bring chaos wherever i go. my friends aren't truly my friends- simply a means to an end. i'm killing my parents with my mere exsistence. im decietful. devilish. deviant. manipulative. evil. 

"something's seriously wrong with you."

my stomach tightens again

threatening to release morning's breakfast.

i feel sick.

i feel like i need to die in order to preserve my family's peace.

and i'm fine with that.

i don't even care anymore.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741