I think I'm lost,
They say I'm dumb, with these numb directions.

They call me a Hater, but they never knew the pain, so they had to gain their own sorrow.

The end of tomorrow is not the Judgement, but the forgiveness and being thankful for the pain, that's gracious.

The Negativity, I had to suffer and fiend for the me I brought into, the day I was born, profound, I started losing myself, but maybe a child was suppose to be born lost.

They call me slow, but they don't know about the Zig Zag I carry, the stories I had to hear, gave me a glimpse of my pregnant mother's sorrow.

How come they don't see what I do, but they fight for me to appreciate this ****, whilst the flower was growing, no more water in the garden I was warded to breathe in.

I suffered, it made me tougher
But I had to write about it.
Anxiety.