Prodded and poked
Slapped and choked
Crammed into a place
With little to no space
For me.
My brain shaped and squeezed,
My personality grabbed, seized,
Wrenched away from me.
Any left over debris?
That stays. Festers. What once was mine is wrong, wont fit
seen as flaws.
Dont let it grow.
Dont let it show.
It must be controlled.
like
mould
YOU ARE READING
Monsters
Poesia"A bunch of poems about mental illness" didn't sound great as a title, but that's basically what this is. This is my first book and I honestly just wrote these in my notes app, went "Screw it," and posted them. If these don't correlate to specific e...
