If I had one wish,
I'd ask for my life to cease to exist
Because I refuse to go on living like this.
Or would I beg to be rid of this disease?
The one that plagues every thought, tinging them grey at the edges,
Blurring my vision
This must be my life's final mission,
To make those happy I can, and mourn those I cannot
For the hole in my soul where I lost my own identity,
I will go on in the day, and cry myself to sleep at night, and hopefully fate will be kind enough to drown me in my tears