Every time I think I'm doing better something comes along to worsen everything.
Worry, worry, worry.
That's all I do.
About things I can't control,
About things in the future,
About my inevitable doom,
About how unlucky I am.
I sit in class shaking and trying to control my breathing,
When all I want to do is go break down in the bathroom.
People sit right beside me oblivious to my state of emergency.
But who cares right?
All I am is an invisible, anxiety filled girl.
YOU ARE READING
hidden words
PoetryComplaining too much is my specialty. These rants are completely pointless.
