Insecurity
It's like a disease. It
gnaws and tears my insides.
It leaves me vulnerable
and open to more damage.
It rips apart my mind
just when I think I'm strong.
Then I ease back into that
gray state-of-mind.
My instincts fail
and I feel completely
useless.
I'm now a bedridden,
sick, miserable patient.
It is like a disease.
Except there is no type of
medication to sooth
this horrible, evil pain.
Poetry by hrose112
Read 778 times
Written on 2008-12-09 at 01:31
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by hrose112 Latest textsInsecurityevil words. Dearest BFF, bursting out |
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