I am insecure inside, where it matters.
I can cry like a child if I'm alone.
Crawly things? They make me sick,
and sometimes I still feel I have no home.
I am not a fighter, despite
how bad I'd like to be, and
I sometimes lose myself to a sadness
that can be deceiving, hard for others to even see.
The highest heights make me quake.
Open water? It turns me green.
Nights are, by far, the hardest time,
when childhood comes hunting, haunting only me.
I feel like there's just not enough time,
but for what? I really don't know.
My darkest thoughts walk even the daylight with me.
They do not ever seem to leave me alone.
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