Sick of drowning in fear at the idea of death.
It's always on my mind,while I hide in my bed.
Everybody's scared of it,that's what my therapist said.
But my case is worse when my terrors have been fed.
Everything's too far to desire the steps.
And it would take a lot to walk down the stairs and find myself again.
Something similar that wouldn't make my stomach upset.
It doesn't feel like this is real,yet my mind is a mess.
The only time it feels clear is when the music is playing.
Some relatable poems claim it's okay.
So I'm reading poetry to try to bury my disdain.
Kill my insecurities in cute little slangs.
Like 'Why frown when the sun goes down?'
If you wake in the morning to such nice sounds.
When nighttime creeps you'll be plagued with a frown.
Make it through this.
You can make it through this.
