Remember

My mama said, 

when I was young, remember your name. 

It is you. 

You’re a fighter. 

I believed her. 

I fought, 

I fought, 

I fought. 

But, now I’m tired of it. 

The pressure of the world on my shoulders. 

All the words I’ve been called.

 I’m so tired. 

Maybe I’m not a fighter anymore.

I’ve reached an all time low. 

A lone spider.

Isolated. 

My body is just a shell. My mind too far gone. 

Oh well.

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[Aesthetic Trash]

Library treatment for this one...