Behind my lively face, is a soul struggling to be freed from the bondage that is my body. A soul that is weary and pants daily like one that had run a marathon race. A soul that is filled with bitterness and rage. 

When shall I be freed?

Who would set my poor soul free?

I shall continue living in shackles, waiting for a Messiah while the scars in my heart remain like freckles. 

I'm tired of saying "I'm okay" because even if I tried to explain they wouldn't understand.

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I have anxiety-driven insomnia.

I'm not being lazy, no, I'm only fighting an internal battle and it's the best I can do at the moment. 

I'm also drained from battling the little voices in my head trying to convince me that I'm unloved, not good enough, and would never be freed.

I'm tired of self-advocating to people who don't understand and who would never understand.

I'm forgetting things and it's painful.

I can't articulate what I'm feeling right now because I basically feel nothing (or everything) 

I'm physically exhausted from expending all my energy to fight depression daily.

I'm tired of faking a smile.

I'm experiencing sensory overload.

I wish I could sell myself to another.

But, who would buy this tortured soul?

Underneath all the smiles and pretenses, is my yearning for freedom. 

I'm a prisoner of myself, trapped in a body but one which doesn't belong to me. 

No one can set me free except me. I'm lost to begging to be freed but the pain in this world is much too plain. 

It is so easy to be wanted but I prefer to be valued.

How do I walk again?

I'm so hungry…

I can't sleep…

I wish to be understood but I prefer to keep to myself for fear of being exposed.