By Emily Chance
My mind is full of wonderous things. Things of dark, things of old.
My mind is full of marvelous sounds. Musical laughter, whistling winds.
My mind is full of vibrant light. Brilliant colors, darkest nights.
My mind is full of wondering things. Twisting creatures, beautiful flare.
My mind is full of difficult times. Blinding tears, terrible fears.
My mind is full of horrible thoughts. Angry deaths, mostly my own.
My mind is full of beautiful echoes. Sounding memories, a gentle touch.
My mind is full of impulsive thoughts. Crumbling ledges, crashing cars.
Telling me to be perfect isn’t quite fair. I’m only human and barely all there. My mind has a mind of its own, where sometimes I don’t feel quite at home. I can’t be perfect and I won’t even try. Whenever I do I just want to cry. I mess up all that I touch, I try to fix things but it isn’t that much. Don’t make me explain this pain in my brain. I will only end up going insane. I can’t fix me, but that’s alright. All that matters is that I put up a fight. I may not always be good. And sometimes I don’t think that I should. Don’t tell me I’m bad and don’t tell me I’m wrong. Because I’m the one that knew all along. I’m full of anxiety and sometimes depression. There’s nobody here that can teach me a lesson. I’m older than my age may show. I had to grow up to be strong and bold. I learned that breaking down is okay… but you have to get up and not run away. People who love me make it be known. Because those who care, make sure it’s shown. You’re welcome for the intro to me, the blinding ball of anxiety.
Edited by London Koffler