I'm rotten to my core
Even though I'm already dead
Living is my chore
The voices of the worms echo in my head
Flies have left their eggs
Maggots are relishing on my heart and brain
I feel them crawling under the skin of my legs
I cannot get rid of this pain
Treatments and therapy may slow this process
But they cannot undo the damage that has been done
I cling onto the few remains I possess
Even though I know what died in me will forever stay gone
The dead does not come back to life
I will forever be a walking corpse
I'm sorry my disease caused such a strife
I'm a prisoner of my old sores.
