I feel as ignificant as a star that glows without a light.
I feel as bruised as a flower with broken leafs. They died in their growth.
I have a mind split in two. Trying to go to different directions. One mostly wins.
I can think but a fog is always hard to get through.
I can put on a mask. The inner painting of my heart, however, is black.
I have muscles so I can laugh. Just tell me when and I’ll obey.
I have a will, or maybe I had one. I’m just a bit confused where I left it these days.
I have a pen to write. It has been months…but I’m trying.
I’m feeling, I have senses, I see, hear what is wrong with me.
I have no tongue, it’s too hard to explain.