Luna Moon


Allergic


How I'm allergic,
To my very own skin.
I break out in hives,
Everytime that I sin.
I curse at the mirror,
And at the reflection of me.
I know from my sickness,
I'll never be free.
I choke at my voice,
My words deafen me so.
Medicines no use,
Still my symptoms do grow.
My choices make me nauseas,
Thoughts make my head spin.
Oh how I'm allergic,
To my very own skin.

Submitted: Saturday, September 26, 2009
Edited: Saturday, December 26, 2009
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