Nothing is Everything

When the little things can make or break you.

What is wrong in my mind
that I should feel so vile?
Corrupt by minor blemishes
Both mental and physical.
Fires of hell burn anyone
In my mind that do me wrong,
Even if they do nothing at all.
Taken aback by noise and disturbance
In a coil of pain that tightens
And puts me in restraints.
The pain in my head
Shows not on my face
But buries me in that very space.
Nothing is more perfect
To the outside eye
Nothing is more imperfect
Than in my mind.
Mind me not,
For I cannot mind myself.
And do myself wrong
with nothing at all.