Sickness occupies my brain
And the blackness covering my heart
And rushing through my veins
Is all diseased.
My bones will crumble
And my eyes will flutter
And my body will shudder
Riddled with infections

And soon, once I'm bleeding out
And my tears have expired
And my disease rots my insides
And I can do nothing but pretend
The medicine is working,
I shall close my eyes and
Imagine myself
In a place where my existence
Isn't irrelevant, and my mind
Isn't a place I'm running from

The sickness thickens my blood,
And weakens my skull
And my spine will crack
And I will collapse with any burden
Ever since this body of mine
Has been over encumbered
with ill thoughts,
I've been defenseless against
My own army

It seems the disease that's
Killing me
Is simply just the dark corners of
My heart and mind
Coming out to destroy me

So bury me young
Like the heroes of romanticism
Don't cry at my grave, please
I'm simply stricken with
Illness and sickness and disease
Conjured up by a mind influenced
By fear and rage and pain
And a black heart made of ash.