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The Sickness
September 10, 2009
Its a heavy infection
Mirrored as an empty reflection
I am filled with shame and sorrow
As much as i hold, I am sad and hollow
I life the weight from my chest to my shoulders
I carry it easier with less exposer
I am young but, quikly aging
the emotions I feel continue raging
It is a feeling I make contagious to my victoms
I speak words that give them my symptoms
This sickness has meaning, indeed
Though its an underestimated disease
I can't control it, i live accordingly
Growing profusely, to keep it orderly
There is no cure for such an infection
Simply because my disease is undetected
© Anonymous
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