She sits on the couch confused, scared, anxiously scared.
She doesn’t know what to do.
She believes, yet she lacks confidence.
Yet there is a piece of confidence hanging to her, clinging to her,
She doesn’t believe.
She thinks to herself,
Is it her fault, that she is herself.
Is it her fault that she likes who she is.
Is it her fault that nobody understands who she is?
Is her fault that no one wants explore deep anymore?
As days pass by , As her years add up,
Her faith diminishes.
She questions herself,
why am I scared?
why do my heart feels heavy and hurt?
why do my eyes keeps getting emotional when I want to be strong?
Why do I keep doubting myself instead of destroying that doubt?
Why am not building myself up but tearing apart?
she asks herself,
Am I really what people see me as?
Is it really their fault or mine?
I do have the answer,
I do know why I feel the way I feel,
Yet its hard to block it out,
Their thoughts and mine.
With the questions and answers known,
She carries on.