July 13, 2024
Dear ghost,
I, too, am here with all of my anxiety. Riddled with vines of what I ought to be, and what I cannot be. I am yet to discern what causes this uneasiness. But my symptoms...
it trickles...
...
..
.
When nobody matters,
Yet every soul matter
My mind,
Grow weeds of thought
Hides the sun and drugs me
As I sleep like a corpse
My heart,
It will beat about my flaw.
It will beat about my want.
It will beat me up inside
"You are flawless."
Liar.
The cicadas mock me.
Even the bed doesn't want me.
Nobody wants me.
And when I like loneliness
Yet stretch my arms for a hug
That's when I know
I am anxious again.
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