BY: AUSTEN RAMSEY
I am always stuck right in the middle;
In between the talent and talentless;
Candid and very much noncommittal;
Relaxed, at peace, and terribly distressed.
I love who I am and treat her badly;
She has great cheekbones and a double chin;
Distaste for the world but loves it madly;
A sad, sentient soul inside thick skin.
I’ve been told I am smart, but I’m failing
To be enough for any one person;
I’m a healthy young girl, but I’m ailing
And I’m not sure yet if it will worsen.
I keep having thoughts; they say I’m addicted
To a dream of myself, in a life less afflicted.