My emotions,
Have a mind and body of their own,
It's like I'm apart from my body.
My mood changes quickly,
Faster than I can keep up with.
It's worse,
Especially when I'm unwell.
I'm not very helpful, but I'm still of use.
But she doesn't see that.
I'm always sad and negative,
When I say, "I'm not my emotions,"
I mean I'm not her, and she's not me.
I have a bad cold,
It's better to blame it on sickness.
Accepting that my mind is like a playground,
Not meant for kids,
It's not even close to being normal.
I often feel like I want to die every second,
Like a sudden snap, I curl into a fetal position.
And I want to stay there.
I like tall buildings; they make me feel like I could jump without moving a muscle.
I die every night in my sleep,
It's something I've become accustomed to.
It's strange,
But maybe I'll just blame it on her.
It's easier to say it's her fault than mine.
Or maybe it's just the cold.
© camvickbone