i remember the times i had to think happy things before sleep because the bad thoughts where always so loud.
i had to think of rainbows and cotton candy while the thoughts of murder and grief spoke to me.
i wanted to cry each night as those came to me. i thought it would stop but i knew it was a lie
to me all of it was just another flaw to my broken mess. i couldn't be helped or fixed. nothing would help what i call my body.
oh how i hate this body. the intrusive thoughts i had only made it worse. by now i want to die
it won't stop. just like this poem.
god is this a poem?
