cough drops and chamomile
half-hearted sickly smiles
i've taken every type of pill
yet i remain stubbornly- ill.
when the shadows under my eyes turn almost black
people nurture me, they serve me soup, rub my back
but no such love is received by me
whenever i tell someone that my mind is sick
they roll their eyes immediately
dismiss me as nothing but thick.
i would endure five hundred head colds
if it meant my mind were to be cured
i would take on one thousand pesky viruses
if it meant my brain could again be healthy, pure.
but i can't
all i can do is hope for someone to help me navigate through the muddled messes above my neck
i fear that no one ever will
until then i will remain
stubbornly ill.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
a/n: hey i'm sick and i can't think straight whooo excuses
happy pedid
