Your skin is so pale, scars covering your arms.
You mumble words, so you don't say any harm.
You don't like attention, you shy away.
You don't speak up, when you're not okay.
You avoid social interaction, it gives you chills.
You don't understand how people enjoy the thrill.
You are never relaxed, it's always on your mind.
You're always fidgeting with anything you can find.
The older I am, the worse it gets.
I feel like my life is falling too bits.
I have a good poker face, so you don't see.
That all my own demons are controlling me.
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Author:
Billie-Jade Locke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 4th, 2018 14:57
- Category: Sad
- Views: 64
- Users favorite of this poem: Kae, Discreation
Offline)
Comments1
Great write! I know how (at least from my own perspective) this feels. It manifests itself differently in all of us, but there are some common denominators and I think you did a great job articulating something that connects people like us...
thankyou so much. It's an awful thing to have to think and live with.
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