The Fog Is Pressing Down Poem by Lina Daniels

The fog is pressing down. The fog is really pressing down.
My body wants to move. My mind doesn't.
My mind wants to move. My body doesn't.
There are things I want that I don't go get.
There are people who are bad for me that I want around.
I don't know if I'm good or bad.
Am I selfish or selfless?
Am I allowed to feel?
Am I only meant to serve?
What am I made for?
To feel compassion but to never receive it.
To pity others.
To pity myself.
Nostalgia or reality?
Can't they be the same?
I am supposed to hate.
But only what you tell me.