I am sorry for letting my emotions
Force my body to their will
I wish my heart was a
Simple possession I could ****

I feel sick, brain all wrong
Healthy eyes cannot see
The invisible illness residing
Spinning around inside me

Constantly battling worry and fear
Stomach turning with unease
Every day new war begins
Between myself and this secret hidden disease

If you start to yell and scream,
Count on me to freeze.
I can't take anger directed at me,
I was born with a disease to please.

Average grades are shameful here.
No more B's and C's.
"Good" is just not good enough
When you have a disease to please.

I know people who pass through life,
Jumping hurdles with ease.
I tell myself "not high enough,"
Thanks to my disease to please.

Emotions take more than fair
In situations like these.
I'm completely drained, robbed, ****** dry
From my disease to please.

All this pressure takes its toll,
Constantly, I feel my heart squeeze.
Breaths are rapid, running short,
And I'm dying from my disease.

I tap on the floor,
continuously,
Waiting for my turn...
I'm nervous,  but that's with everyone at my place
My temple is burning,
But that's with everyone here...
They always sweat,
Even if it's the blood they lose in the battle,
The battle... Bound to be lost,
The battle where you lose,
But as a matter of deep surprise,  no one wins...

It's a process of waste...
You keep growing inside to stop forever once and for all,
I degrade here as I fuse to grow,
I increase to decease,
To decease,
Refuse to withdraw
Because I can't, even if I choose to not swing my sword...

I wince at the prayers for,
They are disguised,
You join hands before the one who has bound mine from wiping,
The blood off myself,
The blood no one sees ,
The blood no one shall see,
But I smile as I get up to
greet them all that pour with sympathy...

Losing seconds to my vanishing
To the first and only life I got just to peep,
Look from far,
As I get to see things happen by themselves,
Like some tangled wool I'm left.
Warm still useless,
Kept...
To throw away.

I was your fuel
You were my drain
I was your blessing
You were my lesson
I was your cure
You were my disease
I was saving you
You were killing me

- I was calming your soul, you were stirring mine

Well, I've come up with my diagnosis,
And I believe that you are infected.
Yes, indeed, it's a parasite, in fact,
But don't you worry. It can be dealt with.
Unfortunately, it cannot be cured.

Do you perhaps remember feeling
That you could do anything as a child?
Do you remember internalizing
The confidence and power that youth brought?
Do recall those sensations?

I can predict the rest. Someone stopped you,
Told you to think realistically.
Put you down, causing you to doubt yourself.
Doubt. That is what you are infected with.
And as of then, it has been part of you.

She is a disease
Once you captured her
You were caught up on her
Hard to be immune to
And with you every step of the way
Even if she was deadly