*tw: scissors and cutting mention, feelings of selfishness, self loathing and doubt, ambiguity of religion*
my god, who let me own
these scissors?
why do i always hold them behind my back
waiting for someone to be problematic
and then whipping them out
and cutting them out of my life?
my god, who let me own
a mouth like this?
why do i always get so defensive
and insecure over the tiniest things?
my god, who let me own
a mind like mine?
a toxic mind full of worry and insecurities
and defensiveness and thoughts i act on
and immediately regret?
my god, does anyone
even like me?
am i even as good as they say?
because all of my mistakes
are multiplying by the minute
and maybe to you they're minuscule
but to me they're massive.
my god, why do i continue
to use this phrase
even though it is not you
that i believe in?
is there something i should be believing in?
are you up there, shaking your head at me
in disgust as i whine about
my sadness online?
my god... i don't know what i'm doing.
YOU ARE READING
recycled poetry
Poetry❝i wish i was writing something special, but these words have been used before and there's no originality to it at all. i'm just reusing phrases until they're worn out, like musty library books or hand-me-down clothes.❞ from ❛hand-me-down poetry❜ i...
