Cursed by my imagination,
teaming with echoes of situations
I do not feel well,
pressed beneath this spell

Polishing my social skills,
with one more drink, and two more pills
I do not feel good,
I thought by now I would

Bound by my own disposition,
the endless hunt to find fruition
I'm insatiable,
even if my cup is full

It's like one thousand paper cuts, soaked in vinegar
It's like a battles within myself, that leaves me insecure

i am an inside child,
handles are red-hot
doors terrify me with
screams only i hear if i dare
breathe the fresh air
of scary eyes i am afraid.
mom, why am i not
normal why am i stuck
inside why am i a
hikikomori who
hides why do i cry if i try to
go outside?