There's a voice in my head
She whispers sweet lovings in my ear
"You're nothing"
"You're no one"
"You'll never amount to anything"
And I let her
I could stop her
But it sounds so much better
Coming from her
Than coming from someone
I love and trust
But we're all made of dust
And the dirt of the ground
Might as well follow the sound
Of my own self-disgust
YOU ARE READING
Overthinker
Puisi{tw: suidical ideation, death, anxiety, depressive thought} My thoughts are a full time job. Poetry from your local overthinker.
