I can pick at my skin for hours
Focus on every conceivable flaw
Shake until my body curls up on the shower floor
Most have never seen me at my worst, when
I’m stuck in an apathetic neutral state
Washed out between the highs of my need for thrill
And the lows of panic screaming in my veins
I have the the soul of an extrovert beaten to submission
Shot down and repeating the mantra “worthless”
What do you believe, if not yourself
How could I?
How many more steps do I take before I’m back,
Before the mirror doesn't make me want to shatter
What is my mantra now?