Crud.

165 11 6
                                    

I am afraid to wake up,
I am afraid to even breathe,
The thoughts building up in my mind,
Every other second they increase.
Tired and stressed,
So confused and depressed.
Fears so full,
I have fallen in a hole,
I cannot climb out of,
Because of us and the rush,
I am scared,
Of this crud I cannot flush.

Megan Rose's Poetry: Book TwoWhere stories live. Discover now