to breathe?
Why do I always have to remind myself,
I’m alive?
Why do I need therapy,
to live?
Why was I chosen,
to be fucked up?
Some days, I think my head might pop off.
It’s all in my mind,
but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?
I haven’t cleaned my room for months,
but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?
I haven’t showered in a few days,
but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?
I haven’t been eating much,
but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?
I haven’t fully lived ever,
but do you think that matters to someone, who thinks their head is gonna pop off?
No. It doesn’t. Nothing matters.
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