I think I might be ill
Because my head does loops trying to express itself
And the morbid fascinates me
Blood and guts were roses in a garden that was so beautiful
And pain was the same as happiness
A rare and joyous feeling
Yes, I am sick
But it is a disease that is slowly spreading
As more become desensitized to graphic imagery
And more of us wish to see something new
Something that makes us ponder