How will I die?
Does that computer look like it is going to short?
Why is he up high enough to fall off?
Does the dream about my death mean anything?
These question plague my mind
Hurt me as I think I am going to get hurt
Why am I bound to and end without a mean?
Why can't I get any work done?
Why do I hate everything I create?
This little voice inside me
is telling me i might be schizophrenic.
I can't trust my gut and just hope my mind will cooperate
even my poems are a mess of my thoughts.
That's when I realized
I have anxiety.
Why my mother
the selfish woman
or my father
the crazy man
couldn't just help me
or guide me though what I thought was
ADD
ADHD
Depression
but turns out to be nothing more than a fear I cannot conquer.
But now
I can ask for help from those who can actually see me.
Not those who look at me like I am a number
a dollar sign
a group member
insignificant.
Now I can start to help myself
so I can help others
and start to make the world a better place.
Mankind did not get anywhere alone.
He, or she, achieved a feat passed evolution with help.
So now it is time for me to find help
so the process can continue
and I can help.