Tales From A Bathroom

Alright, here's some poetry to inspire you all.

All alone at last
In the bathroom, time has passed
Sitting here, waiting for
An answer to walk through the door.

Cold tile on my skin
Just remember: breathe out, breathe in
But sometimes it all seems too much
And nothing stops when I yell "Hush."

Hide me from
This setting sun
Since everything I see means doom.
I wait for a cure in the bathroom.

By the way, before you jump to conclusions and ask if I am depressed/suicidal/emo/cutting myself, I want you to know this is not how I feel. I wrote this after feeling nauseous and lying on the bathroom floor because for some reason that helps. Please, do not try to send my to therapy. I am O.K.