when everything is overrated.
sometimes, I let anxiety consume me.
anticipating bitter cold,
when I could still bask in the warmth.
sometimes, I am confused,
why the need to please others
&the need to please ourselves.
sometimes, I wonder,
what is real & what's not.
whether beneath those cheshire smiles,
lies a sinister heart.
sometimes,
sometimes,
it's best I keep my hands to myself.
yet,
I still question my own significance.
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