from a scale of 1 to 10, how sad are you? this question have been often asked by a man in a white coat, i try to answer but no words come out. mom brought me to thousands of hospitals already, always hoping to cure a disease that doesn't even exist. they say they can't help those who doesn't want to be helped, that they cant shine light upon those who want to hide in the dark, but they know nothing about how darkness lit a light for me; i saw things even clearly as darkness creeps in.
from a scale of 1 to 10, how sad are you? how the fuck am i supposed to answer a hollow question when there isn't a compact answer. doctor, doctor, can't you see? i am not sad for i am empty; this has been the way i lived when she left me, but i know she'll never leave me ever again for she keeps on showing up underneath the sheets of the bed we used to share, the song we used to sing, and the places we used to go to. never will she ever leave my side, even if i want her to.
from a scale of 1 to 10, how fucked up are you? oh, i dont think that this range would be enough to trap in how i ask all the saints to teach you to learn to love me once again, how i still regret letting you leave me for i know you deserve more what you had with me, how everyone gets concerned when they see how pitiful you are, how i badly want to tell the doctors that they should put more attention on happy people for they are the best actors; you see, we are all sick, but not all of us wants to take in the medications for it is what will make us even less than what we are. answer me, doctor, is it bad to be normal?
