this poem wasn’t planned

i would never
suggest you
trying to be me.

for it is tiring
and sometimes
i cannot wrap
the things that
happen in my
brain.

for i always
feel the sense
of loss and
dream of it
often.

i hurt myself
with my own
thoughts.

i hurt myself
with every
moment i
think about
my past.

and when things settle,
there are times that i
don’t know who i am.
and how i got here.

it was 8:43am

demons
are
real

they exist through
my mental illness

the torment of
thoughts i go
through in my
mind is
unfathomable

i long for a day
that i wake up okay,
with strength and
courage to do
what is needed

yet for now,
they continuously
l i n g e r

showing in hues
of exhaustion
insecurities
and anxiety