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Therapy

What's wrong with me?

Tell me about the life, I have already known.

Diagnose me, give a reason for my insanity.

Make me whole, by taking my mind apart, piece by piece.

I am dead, bring me back to the same old story.


Care for me, cure this thing you call a defect.

Convince me, that there's a higher purpose left unfulfilled.

Tell me what to do, then say pills that are worthless, will heal me.

Lead me astray, by saying I'm the only one at fault.

Then when all is lost, perform your mental lobotomy.


You are oblivious, to my feelings inside.

I am in pieces, held together by makeshift staples.

I'm too far gone, to be found as the person that you miss dearly.

You make me doubt, in what I believe to be real.

How will that aide me, to know my life is a sham?


Do I really need to know, why dreams are nightmare's to me?

I'm not sure I want to know, what's beyond the light.

Why should we spend these hours, talking about my flawed design.

I'm still being lured in, by the sirens wishing for my demise.

Still I can't help but drift away, to where my screams are a cradling lullaby.


--Lone Wolf1990 01:40, November 26, 2009 (UTC)

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