I have concluded that something that I used to love so dear is now something I fear so much. Sleeping has become the last of my priorities. I tried talking to a friend about my problems, but she completely turned me away and started talking about herself. I always will wonder how people can be so selfish. I heard somewhere that patience is virtue. In my opinion, I have a lot of patience, but I still am anxious when it comes to certain things. I just want to feel again now; I’m starting to scare myself.
: The Struggle:
No longer blank
Written yet incomplete
Solid but brief
Living
Yet hardly breathing
Stretched across
My body a whole
The feeling: deceased
My soul: incomplete
I sometimes leave this place
Leaving myself behind
My mental state: sublime
Yet I am hurting inside
I ignore this feeling
The feeling of pain
I go on ordinarily in every which way
No one understands why I have become this way
Sometimes I do not even know who I am
I no longer recognize my reflection
I was burned
Taken advantage of
Ripped apart in pieces
Criticized entirely
My exterior was denied
I was intertwined with demise
And now I am alone
Alone in this world
No one to hold me
I am left with my dreams
Yet they have even turned against me
I am attacked at night
I am scared to even close my eyes
I do not even know how I survive
My life: a lie
I need stability
I need a beginning
When is my chance going to happen to me?
I want to fix my broken pieces
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