The A Word
She cant deal with her anxiety
she's always overthinking
It feels like air is being sucked out of her lungs,
except she's still breathing
She's always sweating on her hands and feet
and she feels everything way too deep
It like these depressing,
Anti-depressants,
keep comressing,
her ability and her essence
to be herself, melanin
And although it doesnt show,
through this
Not melanin-but overemotional glow,
her heart is beating too fast
now everyone is moving in slow-mo
She is me...melancholy.
This poem is about:
Me