The back of one yellow hand placed over another.


Sometimes this familiar feeling bubbles up inside of me,

Where I suddenly feel sick.

And the world keeps spinning,

Voices telling me that I’ve become someone different,

That I am no longer myself.

Sometimes this feeling consumes me night and day.

And I wonder,

I wonder what it is that I have become.

Someone that I can no longer recognise,

Someone that I have come to despise.

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