I jumped to the conclusion of you calling me weak.
But you were right.
But it's a different type of weak.
Not of strength,
But weak in the brain.
Everything gets to me.
It's slowly breaking me down.
You see small glimpses of it,
when i spazz out.
I over think everything.
It's eating at me.
Sooner or later there will be nothing left of me.
It's as addicting as drugs.
Once I start thinking I can't stop.
Sometimes I find myself hallucinating.
I'm going to overdose.
Someone please help me.
It's killing me.
I must stop this addiction.
I wish i could say I'm dreaming,
but I'm not.
Help me find the cure to this addiction..
There you have it,
you were right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem