Being alone again makes it hurt,
people whisper that it could be worse.
I cannot focus on more than one thing,
my mind says I'm healthy but it stings.
There I go, breaking myself down,
it's no wonder nobody sticks around.
There's a simple comfort, "Last time I was bigger,"
There are things I can't avoid,
and everything is a trigger.
You can't catch lightning,
and it's dangerous to try.
But if I almost die from it,
maybe it can change my wicked mind.