Good morning

Can I really say good morning,

When I wake up with that familiar dread?

It's like my brain is forewarning,

That by the end of the day, I will have bled.

My mind is stuck in a storm,

Whirlwinds of self-created enemies pass,

Yet I'm still expected to conform,

To fake not wanting to cut oneself with glass.

My mind's racing, here comes the lightening,

I'm in a hurricane of insecurities,

This is oh so very frightening,

Due to the fact my mind is full of obscurities.