Fuck I'm sorry I did it again.
I'm impulsive.
Falling into my disorder,
Like it was the only thing that made sense.
Disorganized behavior,
Harder than it seems,
To keep myself held up by my seams.
Or my stitches I should say.
Can't ever have a break,
From my mind.
My mind that's constantly breaking,
It's self apart,
And picking itself away.
Til' it's nothing but self pity.
Til' I'm nothing,
But a mess in dismay.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
PoetryTired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
