lusty wraith
There’s a monster living deep inside,
a voice that whispers, “You’re not worth the fight.”
It tells me to give up, to just let go,
that no one would notice if I left tomorrow.
My parents yell and demand and push,
never seeing I’m drowning, crushed.
"Get it together!" they shout again,
but my mind is a war I can’t explain.
I try, I swear—but my body won’t move,
thoughts that break me, a darkness that proves.
They see only failure, never the fight,
never how I barely make it through the night.
I want to scream, “Just see me—please!”
But all I get is more demands and pleas.
So the monster inside grows louder, bold,
and says, “You don’t matter in this world.”
thin timber
