Nothing is simple nor is it easy.
I am, and never was, enough.
Makes everything feel so rough.
Left for darkness, forever in slumber,
An endless monotone, terrible blunder.
I feel so useless. Nothing is easy.
They tell me I'm a disappointment, but oh well.
I honestly don't care. The lie I often tell.
I am, and never was, enough for them.
But they are my blood, so it feels worse in the end.
YOU ARE READING
Sure, Thanks, I am Fine
PoetryDepression Anxiety Insomnia Heartbreak Unloved Crazy Scared Joyful Happy Bullied Everything listed here is something I've either felt or gone through. As have many others. But is it easy to say out loud? No, it never is.
