There's a parasite
Which is living
Inside my mind,
Eating away my identity
And slowly, my sanity inside.
This parasite, first, made a small house
Now, a bungalow of acres
In my land of thoughts,
And here I am the sufferer of all
It's construction and destruction of mind.
Unlucky, I am that the vaccine
For this disease has not yet arrived.
Only can be diminished and controlled for a while.
I blame the society to inject me this parasite
In small doses from my days of child,
Why? Oh why?
Were you disturbed that I wished to be
Someone eccentric and different?
Were you bothered that I wish
To be fine.
The parasite which sometimes laugh a loud
Mocking at times on my unstable
Form of confidence is called
And this is a disease
That I will have to carry,
Even the remnants
Forever in my mind.