The Cycle

This morning the cycle repeated again,

Anger took control and anxiety crept in.

Teardrops, a wet pillow and muffled screams,

An array of endless thoughts kept spiraling,

Am I really good for nothing?

  Maybe, I am just overthinking.

What if this is the truth I keep running from?

What if I am meant to be alone?

The voices in the head keep getting noisier,

My limbs are wobbly, I am scared.

The voiceless screams resonate through my veins,

Gasping for breath, is this the end?

A jolt of pain is what I feel at heart,

It makes me feel alive, is that sane enough?

Here I lie staring at the empty ceiling,

Ragged breaths, I hope this is it,

     I hope this is the final ending.




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