My Sickness (IT)

This thing, it bothers me

shakes my entire being

it is neverending



I have absolutely no idea how to deal with it

it breathes inside of me

tears away all rational thought

It makes living hard

surviving, is what a friend of mine had said

the only thing standing between me and happiness

is how I can survive


But IT is there

no, not the mythological demon

-like creature named Pennywise,


My sickness


IT stands there and tells me its okay to slack off

I look at my college homework and can not focus

I occupy my mind with other things

distractions, meaningless garbage

expectations are squashed, parents disappointed

even now it troubles me

this writer's block esque bullshit,

it messes with everything


My mind is cloudy at best,

struggling, trying to find something to help me go

I have aspirations, always been told I was smart

Thirty-one on the ACT,

for what? Even more suffering at the claws of IT?

I can't think, I can't commit, I can't breathe sometimes

I'm literally just staring at the keyboard at this point,


Why am I doing this? I could be doing something productive,

but I am here, talking out the side of my fucking head

to people who do not care,

this seems to be my only outlet

my only way of reaching out


I can't afford a psychiatrist,

a doctor,

    a diagnosis,

        a PILL.

            To fix this,

                To knumb me,

Pacify IT.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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