Prena Poetry

Something inside keeps whispering to my brain that I am going to mess it up, again and again and again.

It is like there is someone another living inside this body, like a parasite, and that good for nothing parasite only keeps feeding on any good feeling I acquire.

And it keeps lying, just like how it has been lying to me for years and years.

It lies to me when I am offered with affection from other people, it lies again when I am cooked good thing for myself and it always lies about how I am always unworthy of deserving of things I actually deserve.

And somedays as I look into the mirror, I don’t recognize myself except the reflection of that lying parasite keeps starting at me