Most days I find it hard to look in the mirror,
At tines,
I convince myself that nobody would miss me,
If I were gone.
My scars tell stories, I wish I could Keep to myself.
I cry for no reason,
And trouble figuring out the way I'm
Supposed to function,
When my mind is such a scary place,
But, I got out of bed this morning,
And that's a start.
