Untitled [An attempt at poetry]

Any constructive criticism as to how I can improve this is much appreciated, I’m not really a hugely poetic person and this is one of the pieces I have even so much as tried to create so it’s not brilliant.
It seemed to be turning out a little too angsty for my liking so I added a bit of optimism to the piece as it progresses.

Untitled
Walking in the shadows of the person that I once was,
In the eyes of a stranger and I still don�t want to see,
Because no one ever sees me for the man I could become,
Totally blind to my presence- I reach for hope and it runs,
The staring mirror lies to me it shows me a grateful smile,
You may think you know me, but I doubt you think of me at all�

Don�t want to be a pessimist but pain�s the only constant I know,
My security blanket that I always turn to in times of blindness,
The pain stricken side of me is the only side that I ever show,
Because I can see through a false smile or an act of kindness,
I�ve always been taught that people reap what they sow,
I sow the pieces of reason to the threads of my fading sanity�

My mental demons are burdens that I and no other can face,
‘Seems apparently slow suicide isn�t the same as dying in vain,
Because all this time I�ve been coming apart at my seams,
I again begin to sow and prepare myself to repeat tomorrow,
As I lock myself away in a box of complete discontent,
Quivering in a hope that someone will see or heed my calls�

But I begin to realise that lack of confidence isn�t a punishment,
Rather a self inflicted attempt at a cry for the attention of others,
Now I can see a light through the tunnel it�s flickering and dim,
I think it�s related to my attempts to silence the anguish within,
I feel a sense of inner peace crawl its way to the surface of my skin,
As I�m rejoined too by the hope that abandoned me long ago�

Watching as my world tumbles down,
Leaving the debris of a clearer conscience,
Out of the pain comes a light so bright,
Out of the strain that was ripping me apart,
Cut me deep, Filled the emptiness,
Because it�s my problems that make me alive,
They make me weak, Hurt my chest,
But I�d choose this over nothing at all anytime,
And I know it�s hard to break a cycle when it�s all that you know,
But kicking old habits is the only way to allow room to grow�

it’s cool, G/J