Physically, mentally, emotionally, everything is sick.
I tell myself everyday that I am sick.
I am causing my sickness. I. Am. Sick.
Nothing I do can fix this sickness inside my body.
My head aches and my heart quakes without forgiveness.
I can't breathe.
But i'm just sick, this is normal, right?
I'm sweating and my insides feel like boiling soup.
I'm freezing and my insides feel like frozen glue.
I can't move.
I act like it's normal and like it's just a cold or exhaustion.
It's normal and I'm getting better.
The sickness is getting better.
And then I remember.
My brain is full of confused chemicals causing shortages in my moods.
My body is fighting a war with the most powerful thing known to man;
I'm sick and this sickness won't leave me.
I feel my body fighting but it's evidently dying.
But i'm just sick.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem