I, like everyone, have some strange and dreadful worries. Sometimes the only way I can express them, cliche as it sounds, is through poetry. Sometimes they end up not sounding so dreadful as they were supposed to be.
Poetry.
Love. Happiness. Sadness. Depression. Guilt. Regret. Struggle and Confliction. We may all be breathing, we may all have our hearts beating. But these are our vital signs. These are symptoms that prove we're alive.