Most days I find it hard to look in the mirror.
At times,
I convince myself that nobody would miss me.
If I were gone,
My scars tell stories that I wish I could keep,
To myself.
I cry for no reason.
And have trouble figuring out the way I'm
Suppose to function,
When my mind is such a scary place..
*But I got out of bed this morning,
That's a start...*
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Most days I find it hard to look in the mirror.
At times,
I convince myself that nobody would miss me.
If I were gone,
My scars tell stories that I wish I could keep,
To myself.
I cry for no reason.
And have trouble figuring out the way I'm
Suppose to function,
When my mind is such a scary place..
*But I got out of bed this morning,
That's a start...*
