Sanctuary [Poetry]

vii-iv

I just can't help but hate myself most of the time-it's in my very own nature. I abhor myself much to the point that I will have doubts with my own actions, with my own feelings-and I don't have the confidence to say that everything that I am is genuine.

I just can't claim the fact that this is me, because I couldn't feel that any of these is real. I couldn't accept that people see me as someone beautiful when all I see in the mirror is a disgusting version of myself, pretending to be someone who's doing fine.

And I'm not doing fine. And I don't even know if this person, who's not doing fine is the real person inside.

I don't know. I just can't help but feel that I'm not real and I don't exist...but the struggles feel like it really is.

It hurts when I'm like this, when I don't feel empty. And I don't know which is better.