Surviving My Mind

Good Morning

My mornings

I want to great

With a smile.

But instead

There's a flooding darkness

That washes through

My mind. 

It whispers to me 

Tells me to wait

Stay in bed

It talks of stress

Of things left undone

Of people who expect

More than I'm capable of.

"You're not good enough,"

It whispers

As is shushes me numb.

And I'm left counting the hours

Until the day can be considered done.