I have to walk along with this wound
turning to scar sometimes, at last
I didn't choose it, but it seems to be it
I am not my illness; but it walks along me

And I have to come to terms with it every morning
It sabotages me and makes me strong.
I can't kick it. It is like a smothering rope, around my chest.
I am not my illness; but we are united bitterly

Lover or nurse - don't make me choose!
My illness came to make the most of me
It was something I had to touch with my hand
She's a topic to explain,
She's something I can't explain quite well
Yet she is there
I am not my illness; I will get free
Drown my hands in this rabbit hole
till I reach MY SOUL