I’m sitting in my room.
Art supplies and paper scattered around.
I’m sitting next to my bed on the floor.
I’m writing this poem.
I’m crying.
I have pain that isn’t physical.
I have pain that hurts my brain and head.
At the end of the day, at currently 12:27,
I sit here, completely drained of energy.
My tears are too heavy to help me up,
My floor catches my tears as they fall,
My walls watching me.
My knees are up against my chest,
My arms rapped around myself.
My body is cold,
And I’m shivering.
I’m having a panic attack.
What do I do now?
I don’t want to move.
I can’t force myself up.
I’m stuck,
Weighed down by these extremely heavy tears.

© Regan