They warn us of bullies.
Saying never be one.
Don't hurt someone else.
For your own petty reasons.
But what about ourselves?
Why don’t they warn us,
warn us of the damage we can do.
The damage to ourselves.
Beating myself up over dumb things I do.
The scars are proof.
Of the bully inside.
Does she tell me the truth?
Am I really that fat?
Am I really that ugly?
Stop eating!
Stop feeling!
Stop!
Stop!
STOP!
I'm constantly not perfect.
I have friends, no one tells me I’m ugly.
But its me,
the person inside.
I’m nothing but,
My Own Bully.
YOU ARE READING
A Dance With Darkness (Poetry of Teen Depression.)
PoesíaJust some situations I have gone through and are still going through written down in my thought process.
