Misty, dark troubled forest.

Sound familiar?

I’m no soldier,

But I’ve had hardships.

The exterior? Inferior!

For what lies inside

This troubled mind

Is a gold mine

For anxiety.

Logic has no space,

Absurdness—no limits.

I can reach for the sky,

Yet never fly

Regardless of the times

I try.

Don’t shame me,

Blame me,

Ridicule me,

Or scoff at me.

Things inside

Just don’t work properly.

But I’m changing

To insane.

Now I believe

That I control

My pain.