Fighting doesn't always mean right fists and bloody faces. Sometimes it means fighting the inside. Fighting something you can't touch, feel, or win against. Fighting your fears, your mind, your anxiety, your darkness, your depression. It's always a battle. One that you battle yourself in. Slice your body to feel what normal people feel. Showing your friends sympathy for a paper cut, when you get none for your deep, mental wounds. Battling the past while your friends look forward to the future. You may not know what it's called, or how to describe it. Not even how to fix it. You want others to help, to experience what you have went through. The only catch is, you're in a battle of death. You can exit through hell.
By me, Lainebug001
Word count: 127
YOU ARE READING
The Thoughts and Poems from the Mind of a 14-Year-Old Girl
PoesíaI'm just a teen dealing with life One Step After Another. So, enjoy these crappy limericks, verses, and rhymes. I hope they keep you company. One page at a time.
