my mouth is growing thorns
while my head holds flowers that wilt
and my back bends its spine in unfathomable ways yet-
it does not break.

there’s a evil growing inside me
it twists and turns and mauls my body into bits
while on the outside all is fine
chaos hidden in what should be perfect.

i cannot move or breathe
or even think about the pain
else i succumb and my body decays.

it’s living through me and it knows nothing of mercy
feeds off of my pain
and i fear with each day
it might be growing stronger.

i yearn for the days that this parasite did not infect me
when i could move freely, sleep peacefully
now i am a stranger to my own body,
a shell of disease.