in my own head

my brain and my body just aren’t meant for each other,
There is no lining up the fight we create in our own heads.
It only seems as if it’s a problem that we aren’t scared of the dark, suicide or people.
I’m only scared of the dark days in my own head, i’m scared of getting out of bed every morning and I’m scared of myself.
Insomnia, anxiety, disorders- my very close friends ringing in my ears.
This is no longer a choice, this is the best I can do when I’m feeling as if I’m simply a dying rose. With petals falling off as if they were unworthy but still holding on. I wish I could be the blooming  rose bud but I can’t pull the strength together. The words of others as if they were  thorns, make me feel as if I’m bleeding inside & out of every cut my body contains.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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