Sickness in my soul
in the pit of my guts
bubbling frothily
welling deep
simmering quietly
chipping away
methodically
dousing my fire
stripping my sanity
my propensity to love
my will to believe
see, hiding from you
i'm smiling defiantly
my superficiality
my mask of joy
is all i'll let you see
no one will know
of my pain in the dark
of my really deep thoughts
of the secret dread
at the base of my heart
which inevitably wins
so tired
to go through the cycle
nameless depression
with no source
like waiting cluelessly
to be damned
like waiting
for a dead friend
to knock on my door
so tired
of always losing
of transient happiness
thnking of finally
calling it all
off
