Sometimes I sit alone and wonder what I'm worth
Who am I?
What am I?
Am I just another human body
Waiting for Death to come knocking?
Do my thoughts even mean anything?
Is there any real Butterfly Affect
In the words I unleash upon the world?
And the thoughts that are not voiced,
What happens to them when I die?
Do they disappear along with my liveliness?
Or do they escape to infect others' minds?
YOU ARE READING
My Voice Through Poetry
PoetryDepressed + gay = poetry 🤯 ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: including (but not limited to) self-harm, abuse, mental hospitals, eating disorders, and suicide.
