What happened to the child,
the one that smiled all the time?
What happened to the boy,
that made the sun shine?

I don't know why I feel,
the way I seem to.
Buried in my grave, alive,
don't know what to do.

I've spent years and years,
listening to doctors say I'll be fine.
But that doesn't really mean,
I'm alright.

If I believe in the doctors,
swallow all the pills they say,
will there ever come a day,
I finally feel okay?

I wish I was taller,
stronger,
faster,
smarter.
My heart hurts,
I'm emotionally unstable,
don't sit across a table,
or a room,
and tell me about my mind.
Don't sit there and tell me,
I'll be fine.

I'm afraid of myself,
of being alone,
I have no home.

I fear the disease,
it eats at me,
and I can't stop it.

But if I keep a smile on my face,
if I wake up to a new day,
that's good enough for me,
that gives me a little faith.