I run, and run, and run.

but where do I go when nowhere feels like home?

when my glass suddenly becomes half-empty and the edges begin shattering.

what am I to do? when everything I tried forgetting remains true..

why does my mind tell me things the mirror doesn’t see?

it’s as if everything I believe is untrue, an image I created to believe I’m something better than I am.

although my demons are out to kill me, without them I’d seize to exist.Image

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