Treatment
conflicting concepts invade my well-being,
making it harder and harder to think.
the number on the scale,
thoughts about wondering if I am pretty or ugly,
one or the other has to be a lie.
finding out if I deserve to live or deserve to die, causing me to wonder why.
why do I have this life?
why do I have this body?
every day, I sink lower and lower into the abyss I classify as depression.
the parasite gnaws at my mind, its claws pressing deeper into my chest.
the power it holds over me is concerning.
to think I once thought I was in control.
once I thought I held the reins and called the shots,
only for me to find out I was the puppet all along.
I don’t know how to escape. I don’t know if I even want to escape.
conflicting concepts invade my well-being,
making it harder and harder to think.
Copyright © beatrice george | Year Posted 2025
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