I planned it all...a long time ago...the perfect picture...
But never knew how hard it would be on me...
I'm afraid for once...not of monsters, death, sickness, phobias, or Michael...
Deeply scared...of what I force myself to do...
And what I do to myself to force it...
Unhappy, unhealthy, unending, unsettled, undone, un-ness altogether...
Guess it is not natural, otherwise I would be happy...or so "they" say...
But sometimes we need a painful push...
Pain can make us stronger...
But when will it ever end?
Can't have pain forever...don't yet want an early end...
Yet I'm heading that way...stupidly/smartly chose the path of doom...
Young, ignorant, beautiful, intelligent, crazy, addict...
Nothing to do with the path I chose...
By the way, never hand me a rose....
For it will die on the concrete floor...no cute vase or water for the flower...
I was real, but now..I've lost every single inborn power...
How can I be what I wanted to be...when I can't even take care of me...
Just have to rid of the "evil rest"...then I, perhaps, can be my best...
Unless the "rest"...is what I need...
Logically the "rest" will only help me succeed in...
Ruining lives, including my own...
I won't take help, although I should...
It’s not offered anyway...not even after all that I say...
Time is running it all...
I'm not suicidal, or on trial, or failing, or crying...yet I am continuously dying...
The tests come up clean...but the one who took the tests was the machine...
People pretend that they don't see...
The shifting shapes, the random words, the altered personality...
The doctors, the family, the friends, the pope...
Yet, every once in a while they strike a quote...
But never finish, never ask, never stop me...
Why am I only a portion of what I planned?...
Why won't these addictions just let go of my hand?
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