Nothing is wrong,
Everything is right,
Yet I am stuck in a fog,
Losing this mental fight,
They say help is medicine,
They say that’s all I need,
To me that’s a sin,
I’d much rather bleed,
I know I’m not well,
This no longer I can deny,
But I’m too afraid to tell,
So alone I sit and cry,
The real me is lost,
Not yet found,
I wonder the cost,
To be mentally sound
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