Life is scary.
I hate thinking about it.
Small, reoccurring pains
turn to deadly diseases in my frazzled mind.
The anxiety of the future,
the terror of what comes next.
It all piles up,
until it feels like a rope around my neck.
I fear what might become of me,
for the future that's unknown.
Every little thing about it makes me wish I was never born.
For the most part I'm happy.
Unwise to the fears of life.
But then something startles me,
and it all comes back forthright.
Oh, the number of times in the past few weeks,
I've wished my life cut short.
Because I feared what might happen
if I let my life endure.
I'm god damned terrified
of the fear that I let reign.
And now my fears turn into poetry
as an outlet for my pain.
Why must I be like this?
Why am I so afraid?
I just want this all to end,
I want these fears all slain.
-Oliver
10/22
YOU ARE READING
Vent Poetry
PoetryJust some depressed(not all are) poetry that I wrote, some recent some not, but there isn't a lot, I probably wont update this a lot bcs I only write poetry when I have a breakdown and that's like once or twice a year, but enjoy!
