I wake up everyday look at myself in the mirror.
How can my imperfections be any clearer?
My hands are shaking with fear, sadness, and sorrow could it wait till tomorrow.
Is Laughter heard across the corridor shooting at my face?
I cannot tell, I am saved by the class bell where do I go to cry.
Trying drains my power of being happy and strong.
My emotion is twisted are knotted and stretched to the limit.
Love isn't the cure to all diseases but the destruction to a live organ which is called the heart.
- Nikita Krutsky
YOU ARE READING
Where do I start to say I'm sorry....
Fanfictionpoems describing depression suicide and school life in my perspective and how shit it is
