It hurts to be here.
My mind plays fortune teller.
Predicting all future tragedies.
Mourning all possible losses.
Seeing myself gone.
My little one alone.
It's as if a bully lives in my head.
Taunting my happiness.
Pushing it down,
As it desperately tries to stand.
I'm confused.
And I've been waiting.
Have I always felt this way?
Have I crossed a line?
Should I be worried?
A silent intruder.
Stealthily hiding in my head.
Waiting for its turn.
To make a move.