Pick at your fingernails
Pull the skin off your lips
Rejoice in solitude
Panic from loneliness
Obsess over small things
Freak out for no reason
Blame yourself for nothing
Assume they all hate you
Shut down when you should rise
Push away those who love
Too much is on your mind
Too much stimulation
You just want to be held
You don’t want to be touched
Anger and frustration
You feel broken and dead
Every day you’re drowning
Each day is a battle
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 