Everybody's words fill inside my head.
people tell me I'm not good enough.
I wish I was dead.
Sights, sounds, and thoughts collide.
What to do about it?
I can't decide myself.
I ignore it but not really.
How could I ignore it?
The anticipation, I dread.
No one knows about me.
Wait. Now it's stopped.
Poems cure my illness. Therapy?
What is that?
I only know the poems to express my feelings and thoughts.
J