I try to justify my thoughts and what I feel but I will convince myself that they are wrong even though I know they're real.
It's not my choice but it seems my words are often misspelled, judged, or read by the wrong voice.
Growing up, it's time to worry about real life stuff
but how can I when waking up from no sleep is hard enough when for me
thinking means not sleeping as I create a mess out of the stress trying to find a way to express myself.
Too many changes into new places of interest,
too afraid to regress from the progress I've made.
Regress to memories of living on the bare necessities dealing with complexities that life has incessantly handed to me.
I worry people don't understand my actions,
what I wear my fashion, what I like my passions, the way I seem to ask seemingly obvious questions.
These questions will be ignored.
Then I'll supress my emotions and store them in a place that is more likely to run out of space and then pour out then I'll be
sinking to the brink of destruction, constructing pathways with dead ends, turns and bends and heart that I think are my responsibility to mend.
The negative thoughts become to much to take as my body begins to tence and my right hand begins to shake. Let me speak from experience and not be fake this is not a feeling that can be cured by any amount of anxiety medication intake.
There's too little time to worry about such nonsense.
It's time to center my mind and focus and not let my sabatouging seubconcious make me anxious.
Because soon my battle scars will shine become battle stars and in time eventually align so that I can make the right choice, the right decision so my poems can be read by my voice and I can give myself permission to smile.