My sadness is a toxin
Of which I'm fully infected
It shows in the bags on my eyes
The cuts on my skin
The bruises on my face
I breathe it every day
When I skip a meal
Or skip a class
(When you think about it, there's so many things to skip in a life)
I feel it in my bones, my chest, my heart
Weighing me down; suffocating under sheer pressure
I've tried to cure myself
With conversation, medication, ******-analyzation
But the sickness prevales; it's already latched into my lungs

My sadness is a toxin
Of which I want no one else to breathe in