Feeling empty, yet full of hatred.
Hating myself for never being good enough.
Hating my life because, nothing ever went right.
Hating the people I let run all over me, because I thought one more heartbreak wouldn't hurt.
Hating the friends that I had, and lost, cause I could never do anything right.
Hating every breath I took.
Hating me.
YOU ARE READING
Book of silent words
PoetryDepression, anxiety, loss of words. These are shorts written in the prospective of someone dealing with life ending thoughts.
