More Theraputic Poetry

Take away a person's posessions
and see what they're really made of.
I'm not liking what I see.

I'm not liking what I've been feeling
what I've become, what I'm not.
Is this really me?

It's not who I thought I was.
But hard times bring out a persons true self
their true being, their soul.

I'm seeing how shallow I am,
A bright light on how empty I feel,
Not breaking the darkness in this deep hole.

Isolation. Anger. What if. So sad.
The cycle makes me dizzy
I'm swimming in circles and sink.

It's not even as bad as it could be.
It's not even as bad as it should be.
It could be so much worse.

Death. Loss of a loved one.
Physical harm. Physical abuse.
All so much worse than what I lost.

How shallow am I to be this affected?
How would I ever handle something
that comes at an even greater cost.

Seeing what I'm made of
looking in the mirror.
What an awful thing to see

Feeling so out of control
seeing the power it can have.
What an awful place to be.