• thescreechingsilence 27w


    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.