i have a head made out of rock,
a body filled with poison,
and a void soul.
i am afraid
that my greatest strength
turns out to be my achilles heel.
i am looking at a blank canvas
with spots of red and blue and black.
i assume, i judge, and i am,
more often than not, obdurate.
sometimes, all i want is an answer,
but when they give it to me,
i can't listen because
the voices in my head
are telling me that i should just go
and that i have endured enough.
i am terrified of the voices in my head
that keep telling me that i am not
because despite the fact that i know
that i am enough,
they still get me down.
i want to be myself,
but isn't the voices inside my head
is a part of what made me who i am?
— The End —