Seeing stars while standing still,
There’s no denying that you’re ill,
Denial persists, stabs and twists
You stand in a fog a filled abyss
Searching for words, but instead you just drift
Empty handed time after time
You feed yourself lies and pills, there’s no denying that you’re ill,

More doctors than friends, you try so hard not to let the pain in
Chronic or Histrionic, whose to say in the end?
Rhetorical epiphanies are your oldest friend

Seeing stars while standing still,
The beholder’s eyes find solace in nature’s will