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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Self analysis

Submitted: January 15, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 15, 2008




No one knows the heartache that exists within my soul

And no one knows of the extent to which they play a role.

When I look into a mirror it is not myself I see,

Instead some form of monster daily stares straight back at me.

I hide myself so well at times, no one would ever guess

the thoughts that occupy my mind, the loathing and detest.

Bubbly and confident, it's all so damned untrue,

It's just I'm skilled at pretence and hiding me from you.

I lack determination from the moment that I wake

And deal with the frustration of eating for it's sake.

Some day I plan to conquer this pattern of destruction,

Some day if I can settle in a life without disruption.

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