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Won't Fix It
Looking down a far hallway, as it stretches and bends
Is this real?
My vision blurs without reason and suddenly im outside
The wind blowing on my scalp
Suddenly it seems like my reality has been denied
Denied of all access through my mind
I find that my mental note has been signed
Not by my name but my makers
As if to brand my future and scramble my past
I was the only taker
My mind has been a map of unsolved riddles
And storms that cause typhoons
Yet a simple pill can make the winds change and send clues to the brain
Though the only side effect is death
Long term right?
A life that isn’t and was never mine, taken by my mind
My body a hollow shell for turmoil and discord
As though instead of growing up
I simply grew into my mind and my thoughts
My nervous system, watches closely as my heart speeds up
My skeletal system watches my disease grow physical
My respiratory system sees my lungs give out
Just as everything grows together it slowly dies
To rot slowly is a painful death but to live rotting is a painful life
The voices combine into noises
Combine into conditions and combine into diseases
A diagnosis won’t fix it
Medicine won’t fix it
If I have been living, why change it?
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Though I have lived with mental illness since I was a teenager, all while I was growing up I was adapting to my illnesses. Making them reality and never seeing a problem with it. Now when it effects my life in a daily basis and I am advised to take prescription drugs to "fix me" it will always feel wrong to feel "normal"