Breezy Weaver


My Illness

As the blood rushes through my veins and out to the open air, I feel the pain and realize i can't go without.
I endure the suffering, love the discomfort but hate the sorrow.
The misery, torment, agony will always trouble thee.
The torture I put on myself will leave a wound, burn or scar.
But, my illness will go on until my last day.
The sight will be on your mind forever, and trouble you until the end of time.

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